


A Year of Second Chances

by ninwrites, notcrypticbutcoy



Series: A Force This Powerful [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Bad Parent Robert Lightwood, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter AU, Hogwarts Second Year, Light Angst, Lightwood Siblings, Platonic Relationships, Quidditch, cuz they're kids, fluffy platonic malec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/pseuds/notcrypticbutcoy
Summary: After a tumultuous start to their relationship the previous September, Magnus and Alec find themselves embarking on their second year at Hogwarts joined at the hip. Alec is desperate to make the Quidditch team, and Magnus is desperate to avoid the slimy blonde who seems to be ready with a snide comment at every opportunity.Even in the magical world of Hogwarts, nothing is ever easy. At least this year, they've got each other.





	1. Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're baaaaaack!!!
> 
> And so, of course, are Magnus and Alec, ready to embark on a new year of twelve-year-old angsts, potions disasters, and charms that turn deadly...
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> (This chapter by Lu, AKA vulturemonem)

The sky outside Magnus' bedroom window is a soft mesh of blue bleeding into purple into pink, as the sun sinks down below the horizon, slowly plunging the warm summer night into darkness. It's still, outside, the wind barely making a breath, trees still.

He can hear the kids downstairs playing music, but he's not interested in going to join them. Not even the promise of April's cooking can make him move from his seat on the windowsill—and he can smell shortbread biscuits wafting up the stairs.

The glass of the window is cool against his forehead, and as he watches the gentle light of dusk fade into night, the stars start twinkling high up in the sky. A full moon sits half-hidden behind a cloud, ghostly and bright and untouchable.

He wonders whether Alexander is looking at the same view of the night sky he is, in his London town house—London _suburb_ house, he corrects himself, because Alec is always so particular about the difference between Lydia's home in the centre of the city and his own on its outskirts.

A huff of a laugh escapes him at the thought. As if. It must be nearly midnight. Alexander will be asleep, tucked under his sheets - or maybe having kicked them off the bed in the heat of August - with his curtains drawn, deep in dreamland, with his siblings and parents shut soundly in their own rooms.

It's just Magnus who's awake.

It's silly, he knows, but he can't for the life of him sleep. The music downstairs from some of the older kids isn't keeping him awake - he's good at sleeping in the face of noise, having lived in a children's home for so many years - and the kids who usually give him trouble are mostly leaving him alone. He suspects it might be something to do with April telling them to lay off. He's sure he'll reap the repercussions at some point, but, thus far, he's escaped any lasting damage.

But tomorrow—tomorrow, after five and a half weeks of a long, torturous summer filled with half-hearted trips to the beach, long hours locked in his room with a book, and scrawling long letters in the privacy of a bathroom, he gets to see his friends.

Well. Two of them. Lydia's mother had made good on her promise, and invited himself and Alec to stay for the three days preluding their return to school, following a long phone call with April. They're to meet the rest of the Lightwoods - and all their classmates - at King's across on September the first.

Magnus had begged Lydia, in a letter than seems a little pathetic upon reflection, not to let her mother drive any expensive, fancy cars up to the orphanage, or to do anything remotely magical.

(His non-muggleborn friends keep telling him that wizards and witches have become significantly better at fitting in with the muggle world, in the last couple of decades. Magnus has his doubts.)

He glances over at the digital clock sitting beside his bed, and he exhales. Twenty past twelve. Nine hours until he gets to leave this hell-house, and see Alec, see Lydia. He wants so terribly to see someone who doesn't look at him like he's got some kind of deadly, dangerous disease. Like he's a freak. Like his every breath is a heinous offence.

A hug sounds pretty nice, too. He's gone five and a half weeks without one—although he supposes he used to go a lot longer without any kind of physical touch. Not all of his intermittent foster homes had been loving places.

Magnus sighs, this time letting his breath fog up the windowpane. In the condensation, he draws a stick man with a wizard's hat on, holding a wand. Just as he starts using the tip of his finger to draw in sparks, the fog disappears, evaporating off the window.

He drops his hand, and leans his head back with a huff. Nine hours. Just nine hours.

He can get through another nine hours.

***

Alec has been to Manchester before.

That's the reason he's not interested in the pretty sights Lydia's mother points out as they walk from a station on the floo network to their destination. Because he's been before. He's seen Old Trafford, and he's seen the cathedral, and—

God, he can't even lie to _himself_.

He just wants to see Magnus.

He's seen Clary and Simon this summer, because Jace was desperate to see Clary, and Simon and Clary are a package deal, and he's seen Lydia for several hours, now, and he saw her earlier in the summer because they live fairly close together, and alright, he hasn't seen Lily, either, but _Magnus_ —

His heart rate picks up in excited anticipation as they near Magnus' home, and he finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet when Lydia's mother rings the doorbell.

"You're excited," Mrs Branwell observes, with a smile on her face as she glances down at him. "Letters not the same, huh?"

"No," Alec says, with a shake of his head. "It's just— It's been _six weeks_ , and—"

"Oh, I know," Mrs Branwell says with a chuckle. "I remember being desperate to see my friends after a long summer. When we got a little older than you - fifteen, sixteen, seventeen - we used to go to Diagon Alley for the last week of our holidays and all rent a few rooms in the Leaky Cauldron. Annoyed all the old patrons pretending to do work in there."

She grins at them; Alec is smiling distractedly, but Lydia stares at her with her mouth open.

"Mum, are you telling me you _rebelled_?" Lydia demands.

Mrs Branwell blinks. "No. Our parents didn't care. They were glad to have us out of the house, I think."

"So if _I_ asked—"

"You're twelve," Mrs Branwell says crisply, but there's a spark in her eyes, a smile twitching at one corner of her lips. "No. But ask me again in three or four years, I'll think about it."

Lydia says something in reply, but Alec is too preoccupied by the thought of finally seeing Magnus after so many weeks that he doesn't hear whatever it is. What can be taking so long? Why can't they just open the damn door?

The home itself looks fairly standard. It's large, clearly once a semi-detached house that's been knocked through to form the children's home, settled at the end of a small cul-de-sac that's a few minutes away from the high street. It's three stories high, towering several metres above the terraces that stretch down the road on either side, and there are trees lining the street, lush and green and gorgeous in the warmth of the summer sun.

The door is pulled open, abruptly, with a frustrating lack of haste, and Alec feels his nervous, expectant bouncing turn smaller, faster, until he's more vibrating than bouncing. Lydia snorts next to him; he can't find it in himself to care.

A woman - April, Alec presumes, although he supposes there must be more staff in the home than just April, even if she's running the place - stands in the doorway, and, almost immediately, the sounds of kids arguing and shouting in the background meet Alec's ears.

"Hello," she says, surveying them with a carefully neutral expression. "May I help?"

"I'm Mrs Branwell," Lydia's mother says, smiling. "This is my daughter Lydia, and her friend Alec. We spoke on the phone. About Magnus Bane?"

April smiles, and inclines her head. "Of course. He's been ready for hours, I'll just let him know you're here. Would you like to come in?"

Mrs Branwell tries very, very hard not to look uncomfortable at the suggestion, and Alec has to admire her attempt at concealing her immediate response. She very nearly succeeds, except for the way her eyes dart past April and into the house.

"Oh, no, that's alright," she says, resting a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "We should be going."

April nods politely, and takes a few steps back to call up the stairs to Magnus, asking him to come down. Alec hears a door slam above the ruckus inside, and there's a clattering that he recognises as the distinct sound of a trunk being dragged down the stairs, and then Magnus is _right there_.

He's grown, is the first thing that Alec thinks, because they'd been the same height last time he saw Magnus, and now he's pretty sure Magnus is taller than him. The next thing he notices is the scratch along his forearm—it's clearly fairly new, red but not hard enough to break the skin, and it makes Alec frown, because it looks like a scratch from someone's nail, and that means Magnus has been battling with the other kids. Again.

But then he looks back up at Magnus' face, where he's just reached the bottom of the stairs and is looking up at April questioningly. When April gestures towards the door and Magnus glances over, he positively lights up, eyes shining and a grin stretching across his face.

" _Alec!_ " he says, dropping his trunk without a care and setting his owl cage down a little more carefully on top, before rushing to the doorway and throwing himself at Alec, laughing boyishly.

"Hey," Alec says, hugging him tightly and grinning right back. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, you idiot," Magnus says with another laugh, dragging them around in a circle on the spot - roughly - but not relinquishing his grip on Alec.

"Woah— _Magnus_ , I'm gonna fall over, you're making me dizzy!"

" _ImissedyouImissedyouImissedyou_!" Magnus is half singing, half shouting, and laughing all the while as he spins Alec in circles. His impossibly good mood is utterly infectious, and Alec doesn't think he's ever seen Magnus smiling so much.

"Are you high?" Alec asks, when Magnus stumbles, their movements clearly beginning to make him feel dizzy, too. They slow, and Magnus lets go, smile so wide Alec is surely it could quite literally crack his face.

Then he looks over to Lydia, grin not diminishing one iota, and he tosses himself at her, too. Lydia looks a little taken aback by the show of affection, patting his back somewhat awkwardly, but she's smiling.

"Don't spin me round," Lydia warns him, sounding like she's only half joking. Magnus squeezes her tightly instead, winking at Alec over Lydia's shoulder, and Alec snickers when Lydia wheezes out, "Magnus, I can't breathe."

"Sorry." He sounds utterly unapologetic, but he steps back, and then looks over at Lydia's mum, who has her eyebrows raised and is watching the proceedings with clear amusement. "Thank you for taking me, Mrs Branwell."

"You're more than welcome," she tells him, and she sounds entirely genuine. "I think there would have been riots if I'd said no."

Lydia shrugs. "We spent months convincing Magnus we were going to show him the wonders of London. We couldn't go back on a promise, could we?"

Magnus is looking at Alec and Lydia and Mrs Branwell like they're the most wonderful people he's ever seen in his life. He looks so goddamn _happy_ , just because they're here. Alec almost can't take it.

Abruptly, Magnus turns around and looks at April, who's watching on with a smile that's tinged with sadness. Alec feels an abrupt and acute sense of sympathy for her—trying to run a children's home because she clearly cares for its inhabitants but not being able to give every child the love and affection and attention they need must be hard.

"Thank you for letting me go," Magnus says, and April's smile turns a little less sad.

"I'm happy that you're happy," she says, simply, and Alec thinks that's a lovely way of putting it, in light of everything about this situation - Magnus' situation - that is decidedly sad. "Go on, have fun. I'll see you at Christmas, Magnus. Write, if you'd like to."

Alec's fairly sure Magnus didn't write many letters back to the orphanage last year, and, from the look on Magnus' face, he's almost certain he didn't write any at all.

"See you at Christmas," Magnus tells her, and, with a fleeting smile, he picks up his trunk and his owl cage, and follows Alec and the Branwells down the little cobbled path leading up to the door, and along the street.

***

"Oh my god," Magnus whispers, staring up around them as they exit from Victoria station, following a rather cramped, unpleasant trip from Liverpool Street on the Underground, after they'd already been sitting on a train all the way from Manchester.

Muggle public transport is exactly what Alec's parents always avoid. It's horrible, and in the height of summer, sweaty. The Branwells, though, are apparently more than happy to make a six hour train journey halfway down the country, to give Magnus the authentic experience of the Underground.

(Alec thinks there are more exciting things to see in London than the sweat stains on a businessman's shirt, but he hadn't argued.)

And the look on Magnus' face, now, as he gazes up at the towering skyscrapers all around them, utterly stunned, is worth the probably unnecessary train journey, Alec decides.

While Magnus spends a few moments gaping, and Mrs Branwell explains where a few things are, Lydia turns to Alec, a smirk on her face.

"I think," she says, "that we might have won Magnus over onto the London-is-great team."

Alec grins, folding his arms as he watches Magnus' look of astonishment when Mrs Branwell tells him that they can go and have a quick look at Buckingham Palace before they head home, _as it's practically on the way_.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I think we have."

***

Magnus feels himself start to crash almost as soon as they cross the threshold into the Branwells' home. Alec is carrying his trunk, because he'd been going on and on about Magnus looking too tired to have both the trunk and the owl cage, and he hadn't shut up about it until Magnus had just given him the damn thing.

"Lydia," Mrs Branwell says, setting her handbag down on the marble kitchen countertop, "why don't you show Magnus and Alec up to their rooms? I'll make some food, and then you three can get to bed. I'm sure you're tired."

Alec and Lydia are both talking as they walk up the stairs, Alec helping him drag his trunk, but Magnus is too exhausted to pay much attention. Exhausted, and overwhelmed, because the most of London he's ever seen is King's Cross station, and he's never had friends like this, who want to do this with him, and emotionally, it's rather a lot to take in.

"You've got your own rooms," Lydia tells them, drawing Magnus out of his head and back to the present. "Bathroom's down the hall. You can leave your stuff in there, it'll only be you two using it."

They both thank her, and Magnus finds himself with five minutes alone to unpack his things and take in Lydia's house, and being in London, and being with his friends. Six weeks was the longest stretch of time he's spent away from his Hogwarts friends, and he can already tell that, despite how much he loves the summer, it's going to be his new least-favourite season.

(He wonders if the Branwells could just adopt him so he never has to go back to the orphanage, ever, and then he laughs at himself tiredly, because, clearly, he's so tired he's a little hysterical.)

Downstairs, Lydia's mum has made sandwiches and is in the process of serving out homemade lemonade. She smiles at Magnus as he enters, Lydia and Alec already sitting at stools placed around the kitchen island.

"We were thinking we could let you three sleep in tomorrow," Mrs Branwell says, "and then take a trip on the London Eye, grab some late lunch, and choose where to go from there. How does that sound?"

Magnus is stunned for a moment at being included in making such plans. He can't remember the last time anybody asked him what he thought about anything like this—not that there are all that many outings at the orphanage, but they're always exceptionally strict and well-regulated.

"That sounds good," Magnus says, nodding.

And he's soon dragged into Alec and Lydia's conversation about their book lists for this year, and their various trips to Diagon Alley (Magnus had been collected and shepherded around with Professor Sprout, along with a few other muggle-borns who didn't have anybody to take them, and were too young to go alone) and what they're most looking forward to this year.

It's not until Magnus is trying to fall asleep that he has a chance to feel alone. He's laying in a bed about three times the size of the one he's used to, alone in a room that's spacious and modern with high windows and and an elegant cream blind, where his own bedroom is cramped and filled with tat that's never belonged to him (remnants from its previous occupant) and curtains that are half-ripped off the rail, with decor left over from the eighties. It feels so utterly alien, such a huge bed and such a comfortable mattress and such soft sheets and blinds that actually succeed in blocking out the streetlights.

He turns over so he's on his side, facing the door instead of the window, and screws his eyes shut, tugging the sheets up to his chin despite the warm weather that's continued into the last days of August.

But he can't sleep. The clock beside his bed reads long past midnight, so, with a huff, he throws the duvet back and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the carpeted floor.

He's too tired to feel any kind of embarrassment at knocking on Alec's door, lightly, and whispering, "Alec?" into the still, silent air of the nighttime.

He hears the distinct rustling of sheets, and, a moment later, the door opens, and Alec appears, blinking at him with bleary, sleep-ridden eyes, hair adorably tousled.

"Magnus?" Alec rubs at one eye. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but can I sleep in here?"

Alec pauses in rubbing his eyes, and stares at Magnus for a long moment. "I— What? Why?"

"I can't sleep. I'm used to a dormitory full of boys or a run-down orphanage. It's too quiet." He shrugs. "I can sleep on the floor. I'll get my duvet."

"No, no, you don't need to do that," Alec says hastily, and steps aside a little, jerking his head to indicate that Magnus should come in. "Just- Just get in and sleep."

"Thank you."

Magnus heads straight for the less-rumpled side of the double bed (do normal people have this many guest rooms with this many enormous beds, or are the Branwells just even more rich than he'd imagined?) and climbs in, settling down against the pillow.

The bed dips as Alec slides in, more slowly, and pulls the duvet up so it rests around their waists. He lays on his side, facing Magnus with his eyes open, and Magnus can't help mirroring his position.

"Is this a normal thing people do at sleep-overs?" Magnus whispers.

Alec huffs out a little laugh. "Staying awake and sneaking into each other's rooms and talking for hours? Yeah, pretty normal."

"Hm." Magnus lets out a long, slow exhale, feeling the tension he hasn't even realised he's been carrying for the last six weeks bleed out of him. "I might fall asleep before we reach hours."

"That's okay." Alec is smiling, softly, and Magnus is suddenly gripped by an almost painful gratitude, that he and Alec don't hate each other anymore—that they're friends, that they trust each other, that he can have something like this.

They're quiet for several long seconds, just watching each other as they lay curled on their sides in the dim light of the bedroom.

"I really did miss you, you know," Magnus says, eventually.

"I know. I missed you, too."

Alec reaches out across the mattress and squeezes Magnus' forearm, and then he settles himself, wriggling a little before he snuggles down into the pillow.

"But now, I want to sleep," he says, and Magnus smiles.

"Goodnight, Alexander."

"Night, Magnus."

***

Magnus' stay in London ends up being some of the most phenomenal days of his life—second only to his best times at Hogwarts. The combination of being immersed right in the middle of such an incredible city, full of historical culture and gorgeous skylines and bizarrely beautiful buildings that tower above the ground, and the fact that he's with Alec and Lydia, makes the days fly by.

He keeps thinking about what Alec and Lydia told him Lydia's mother said, about how she used to go into London before school started with her friends and stay in Diagon Alley. He wonders what it would be like, to go to London with all the Lightwoods - including Isabelle - and Catarina and Ragnor and even Lily, if anybody could persuade her to come down.

On their final day, they all wake up late, tired from a late-night visit to the Globe theatre to watch a performance the previous day. Mrs Branwell takes them to Pizza Express for lunch, which is promptly followed by a bus ride through the city, until they reach the Shard.

Seventy-two floors up, Magnus is greeted by such breath-taking view of the city it makes him pause in his steps. Skyscrapers are bathed in warm sunlight, glass glittering and twinkling like diamonds, and he can see all the way around, in every direction.

"How many buildings can you name?" Lydia asks, patting him on the shoulder with a grin, before reaching for his arm and dragging him round to one side.

Magnus is quite pleased with himself when he correctly identifies most buildings Lydia points to - although, who doesn't know what St. Paul's Cathedral and the Houses of Parliament look like, he really can't imagine.

"Why on earth do you people nickname it The Cheesegrater?" Magnus asks, bewildered, when Alec and Lydia inform him about the colloquial name for the Leadenhall building.

"Because it looks like one," Lydia says. "Obviously."

"That's like calling the O2 _the golf ball_." Magnus shakes his head, but a grin pulls at his lips. "Whats that one called?" he asks, pointing to a smaller, red brick building with a cream-grey tower situated along the banks of the River Thames. A circle, cross, and another circle are picked out vertically down the sides of the tower.

"The Oxo Tower," Alec says.

Magnus rolls his eyes. "That's so unimaginative."

"Oh?" Alec raises his eyebrows, smiling. "What would you call it?"

"Hm." He loops his arm through Alec's, sneaks his free arm through Lydia's before she can escape, and says, "The Lightwood-Branwell-Bane Tower."

***

That night, while the rest of the house is asleep, Magnus crawls into Alec's bed - nobody has commented on their somewhat altered sleeping arrangements - and whispers, "Alec. Alexander. Are you awake?"

"Mmm." Alec frowns. "No."

Magnus chuckles, and curls up on his side, facing Alec. "I've had such a nice time, here. Thank you."

Alec blinks his eyes open, and reaches across to touch Magnus' hand in the dark. "I've had fun, too. You should thank the Branwells, not me."

"I will. But I've enjoyed doing all this with you, too."

Alec smiles. "You're so sappy."

Magnus lobs a pillow at Alec's head, and Alec laughs, lifting his hands to ward off Magnus' attack. Magnus lands a blow on Alec's body, and Alec narrows his eyes.

"Oh, it's on, Bane."

Magnus grins. "Bring it, Lightwood."

***

Platform nine and three-quarters is full to bursting when Alec, Magnus and Lydia spill onto the platform on the morning of the first of September, armed with their trunks and other belongings.

"Do you see anyone?" Lydia asks, rising up onto her toes in an attempt to see.

"I think— Alec, is that Isabelle?"

Alec follows Magnus' gaze, and, sure enough, Isabelle is standing beside Jace, Clary and Simon, clearly conversing _at_ Clary rather than with her. Simon looks more than a little taken aback. A smile spreads across Alec's face, and he realises just how much he's missed his sister over the last few days.

Practically the moment they approach the trio, Isabelle catches sight of them, and a grin spreads across her face. The sight of his sister smiling is infectious, and Alec finds the corners of his mouth quirking up as he accepts her hug.

"I can't believe I finally get to go to Hogwarts," Isabelle says, before any of them can get so much as a word out in greeting. "I'm so excited! And I can't wait to be sorted, and—"

"You're gonna be in Gryffindor," Jace says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and ruffling her hair affectionately. "No doubt about it."

Isabelle sticks her tongue out. "I might not be. Alec isn't."

Jace meets Alec's gaze, a smirk on his face, and shrugs. "Call it intuition, but I reckon you're gonna be around in the common room annoying me for the next six years."

Isabelle groans dramatically, letting her forehead thump against Jace's shoulder. "Oh, by Dumbledore, no. I've changed my mind. I want to be in Ravenclaw."

Clary smothers her laughter at Jace's glare of utter betrayal, and Alec sees Magnus' shoulders shaking out of the corner of his eye. He forces himself not to catch Magnus' eye, because he knows they'll both laugh so hard they cry the moment he does.

After a moment more bickering, Isabelle turns to Lydia while Clary, Jace and Simon catch up with Magnus a little, and she smiles at the older girl.

"You're Lydia, right?" Isabelle asks, eyes shining brightly.

Lydia blinks a little, clearly surprised at the warmth in Isabelle's tone. Alec's tale about Lydia being ostracised by many in her own house for her Ravenclaw-like tendencies had evoked Isabelle's sympathy, and she's spent much of the summer more than eager to meet her.

"I am," Lydia says.

"I'm Isabelle. This idiot's sister."

Lydia's lips quirk up, and she glances at Alec slyly before saying, "I know. We've heard lots about you."

"You're such a sap," Isabelle tells Alec. "Can I braid your hair, when we get on the train?"

Lydia's eyebrows shoot up, and she looks even more bewildered, lifting a hand to run her fingers through the length of her ponytail absently. "I– I suppose so."

Isabelle's grin lights up her entire face, but she doesn't have a chance to respond. The whistle blows for people to say their last goodbyes. Alec's parents have clearly already left, but Clary darts through the crowd to hug her mother goodbye, and Lydia waves to Mrs Branwell, before they clamber onto the train, helping each other with their trunks.

Magnus spots Lily, Catarina and Ragnor in a carriage, and they pile in, much to Ragnor's disapproval. He makes a disgruntled noise as the compartment is filled, and he glares at Magnus when he plucks Ragnor's book out of his hand.

"I haven't seen you for six weeks," Magnus says, "and this is the treatment I get?"

Ragnor mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _extroverts_ (which Alec thinks is possibly the most relatable thing Ragnor has ever said) but he puts his book away, and participates half-heartedly in the conversation Magnus strikes up with Catarina, Lily and Simon.

Alec settles himself into one corner of the compartment near the window, Magnus on his right and Lily on his left; he watches Lydia turn so that Isabelle can set to work on her hair, and Jace pulls out a game of exploding snap, tossing half the pack to Clary.

Ten minutes later, Clary has won, much to Jace's chagrin, and Lydia's hair is intricately braided. Isabelle looks exceptionally satisfied, and the two girls are facing each other, legs crossed on the seats, apparently deep in conversation.

" _Alec_."

Alec jumps when Magnus pokes him in the ribs, and turns to scowl at his friend. "What was that for?"

"Well, he tried the conventional method of getting your attention," Lily says, voice utterly deadpan. "Calling your name didn't seem to get through, so the next logical step is mild violence. Obviously."

Magnus rolls his eyes while Simon snickers, and shakes a box under Alec's nose. "Cauldron cake?"

Alec takes one with a brief thanks, and Magnus passes the box across to Jace, who's laughing so hard at something Clary is saying that he's got tears in the corners of his eyes.

Magnus turns so he's leaning against the window and slings his legs over Alec's, knees bent up so he's not actually touching him, but close enough for Alec to notice it.

"You okay?" Magnus asks, raising his eyebrows. "You're quiet."

"Yeah." Alec smiles, and rests his arms on Magnus' knees, folding them so he can rest his chin where they cross. "I guess, just— Well. New year, new people, new lesson content. We won't be the youngest anymore. It's just going to be different."

Magnus shrugs. "It's not going to be that different. And you might get onto the Quidditch team this year. Didn't Julian say you had a good chance?"

Alec huffs out a laugh. "I'm not getting my hopes up too much. I think Jace has a better chance than I do, but it's still pretty unusual to get onto the team in your second year."

"You're good enough," Magnus says dismissively, and Alec can't stop himself grinning at Magnus' unwavering confidence in him.

"Thanks. You know what else will be weird this year? We'll have to choose our OWL subjects at the end of the year."

Magnus blinks. "Our what now?"

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Like GCSEs," Lydia calls, from the other end of the carriage. "Public exams. We take them in our fifth year."

"How does she know so much about the muggle world?" Magnus asks, with a frown. "I thought magical people were stupidly ignorant to muggle things."

"It's hard to escape some exposure when you live in the middle of London, I guess," Alec says, with a slightly distracted shrug.

Magnus fixes his attention back on Alec, and kicks his thigh lightly with his foot. "You're worrying about something. I can tell. Spit it out, Lightwood."

"It's just general, low-level anxiety," Alec admits. "About Isabelle, a little. I don't want her to clash with my parents like I have. And... Well." He exhales. "I hauled myself through first year Potions, but it's only going to get harder from here."

"Hey."

Magnus sits up from where he's been reclining against the window, and rests a hand on Alec's shoulder. His palm is warm, and his fingers are gentle, and there's a soft, reassuring look in his eyes that makes Alec swallow a little, throat abruptly tight at such pointed care.

"You can't be good at everything," Magnus says, and it's so utterly contradictory to everything Alec's parents have ever said to him that he frowns. "And if the one thing you're not so amazing at is Potions, it's not the end of the world. If your parents are really that bothered by it, then screw them. You're a fantastic person, and you're incredibly clever, and if they can't appreciate that, then it's their loss. As for Isabelle..." Magnus' eyes drift over Alec's shoulder to where Alec can see Isabelle and Lydia chatting in his peripheries. "I have a feeling she's going to be more than okay, whatever happens."

Magnus' little speech succeeds in easing the band of mild anxiety around Alec's lungs, and he exhales, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You're right. Thanks."

"Anytime. And Alexander, even if everything goes horribly wrong, someday, you're always going to have us—your siblings and your friends. You're always going to have me."

"Yeah." Alec feels his smile soften, getting smaller but somehow more honest. "Ditto."

And, despite the awkward angle and Magnus' knees getting in the way, Alec leans in to give his friend a warm, tight hug. Magnus messes up the back of his hair as they pull apart, and Alec glares at him.

"Flipping _Slytherins_ ," he says.

Magnus grins. "We're way more fun than anyone else."

Alec narrows his eyes. "We'll see about that, Bane."

"Bring it, Lightwood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back on our old once-a-fortnight update schedule, so we hope you can find some enjoyment in this in the interim between the season finale and the beginning of season 3! 
> 
> Much love <3


	2. On Friends We Depend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which friendship, of many forms, prevails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September 1st. 19 years later.
> 
> \--
> 
> Okay, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to post on such an important day!! This chapter is for those of you, like Lu, and my parabatai Hannah, who waited at 11 for a Hogwarts letter that - perhaps - did not come. I know it's not the same, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. <3

 

"Scoot over."

It's a few days into the new term, and Magnus has settled into life at Hogwarts effortlessly. While it's a little unsettling to not be the new kid anymore, his first year had helped him adjust, and now he knows, for the most part, where everything is, how the general order of the school works, and it feels a lot like coming home.

He feels comfortable and at ease here, surrounded by magic and by his friends, the only people he can be truly himself with. Although his friend group has grown a little since he was last here.

Alec shuffles over on the bench, knocking elbows with Jace, who's still trying to outline the benefits of being in Gryffindor to Isabelle - there had been loud cheers and proud smiles all around when she was sorted, but she's adamant that being in Gryffindor doesn't mean she's in the best house, and Jace is consequently adamant he can change her mind.

Alec doesn't care that Isabelle is in Gryffindor - Magnus is sure that it doesn't matter to him, which house his sister is in, just that she's here. Alec has been considerably happier since Isabelle came to Hogwarts; not that he was unhappy before, he's just  _brighter_  now. He smiles and laughs more and he's more relaxed - though it is just the first week, so there's a possibility for that to, unfortunately, change.

Magnus hopes it doesn't. He likes seeing Alec happy. Alec has a very nice, and encouraging smile.

"How's the new kid?" Alec asks, popping two slices of toast onto Magnus' plate for him, because he's a little late in coming down for breakfast.

New kid, referring to Raphael Santiago, a first-year Slytherin Magnus has taken under his wing, so to speak, because he remembers what it was like to be new and lost, and although Raphael snipes a lot for an eleven-year-old, there was an anticipatory fear in his eyes that Magnus knew far too well.

"He's good, actually." Magnus glances over at the Slytherin table, where Raphael and Lily are talking, Raphael with slightly wide eyes, probably because of the silver breadknife in Lily's enthusiastically waving hands.

Lily had attached herself to Raphael surprisingly quickly, considering she hardly ever likes anyone, and certainly not this quickly. Magnus trusts that she won't, well, hurt Raphael - and the kid has the darkest glare Magnus has ever seen, so he can certainly take of himself if the need arises.

"He's taken to Slytherin like a duck to water," Magnus comments.

"Ducks?" Jace whips his head around, peering at Magnus over Alec. "Where?"

"Nowhere," Alec assures him, patting his arm. "It's just a saying."

Jace frowns, and then turns back, albeit reluctantly, his shoulders hunched. Alec rolls his eyes, and glances back at Magnus. "Sorry about him," He mutters. "He's always been afraid of them. It's a weird thing of his."

Magnus shrugs. "Everyone has one," He reaches for some orange marmalade, to spread over his toast. "A thing, that is."

A dark, dark memory creeps up on him with crooked claws, of rushing water and a firm hand on the back of his neck and the vile taste of river in his mouth. He shakes it off, phantom shivers racing down his spine - he's had bad experiences with foster homes, but that was the worst. He's come too far to relive it again.

"Mags?"

Alec's hand is resting on his forearm, the touch warm, not quite burning like Magnus would expect. It's oddly comforting.

"We have DADA up first, don't we?" Magnus asks, his voice faint. He doesn't want to talk about this, not now, not this early, in the day or in their friendship.

"Uh, yeah." Alec's looking at him with deep concern, but he seems to respect Magnus' desire to drop it. "I think so." Something bright takes over the concern, though it's thin and transparent, like cellophane. "We get to study really interesting things, this year. I was looking over the textbook, and we get to look at trolls and banshees and ghouls.  _Ghouls_ , Magnus."

Magnus laughs softly. "Aren't ghouls just, ghosts?"

Alec stares at Magnus, like he's not sure if the Slytherin is making a joke or not. "No," He says, slowly. "They're like, ogres? They groan and throw things a lot - I've heard there's actually a whole task force in the Ministry for ghouls. How cool is that?"

Magnus shakes his head fondly. "Very cool."

Alec squints at him, and Magnus holds his gaze, almost defiantly. He's sure that Alec thinks he's making fun, but he's not - Alec is a little nerdy when it comes to the content they study, and he knows that Alec reads over the textbooks before the semester even starts, but he doesn't think it's weird or anything. It's, well, it's endearing and it's - it's just  _Alec._

Magnus may not understand it himself, but it's like with Quidditch - Magnus doesn't understand the game or the attraction to soaring miles above the ground where everything is  _stable_  and  _safe_ , but Alec loves it and Magnus can recognise the passion for both.

"I'd better watch out," Magnus says. "With you doing all of this, preliminary revision and all, you'll end up top of the class and I'll be left squandering at the bottom."

"I don't think you will be, at the bottom." Alec admits, kindly. "The only class you have problems with, realistically, is Charms, and you did really well with that last year."

"With your help." Magnus points out, biting off a corner of his toast, the crunch a punctuating noise.

Alec shrugs. It's not the first time they've had this kind of conversation, and unlikely to be the last. Magnus can admit that he's better at Charms, that he can handle himself ... well enough, because Alec had guided him. Alec has a little more trouble, because he thinks that Magnus is the only reason he passed Potions, which just isn't true. All Magnus did was keep Alec calm and explain the things that Alec had trouble understanding.

Alec did all the actual work.

It's okay, though, because Magnus gets that it's hard for Alec, to not be good at Potions, to be in an unprecedented house - at least unprecedented in his family's view - and even though Alec has come far since his first day, they both have really, it's still hard for him to accept some things. Luckily, Magnus is more than happy to keep reminding him, as many times as he needs to.

It's what friends are for.

 

* * *

 

"Could you imagine," Jace's face is practically shining with excitement, a mischievous glint in his eyes that Alec knows, and doesn't trust. "Just, using this spell on, you know, Simon, when he talks too much."

"I don't really think that's the intended use of a Freezing Charm," Alec chastises. They're not at the stage of conducting the spell, just studying it, the incantation and the history and the purpose.

Or, in Jace's case, taking it to an unrealistic level, likely just for the fun of it. Besides the obvious ridiculousness of Jace's statement, Alec isn't sure it would work. Simon could talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles if he was determined enough, a charm certainly wouldn't stop him.

The Hufflepuff boy is literally talking  _right now_ , chattering away to Clary's ever-patient ear. Alec is kind of glad he can't hear, because he'd likely be dragged into the conversation, and he's already had his own ear talked off when he woke up.

He'd feigned a glare, but waking to Simon's endless stream of words was a little comforting, because it was a reminder that he was back, back at Hogwarts, back where he feels like he, for the most part, belongs.

"I wonder," Jace continues, thoughtfully. "If it actually, freezes. You know, like how ice freezes. If it feels cold and seizing."

"You ask the weirdest questions." Alec states. He traces his finger along the diagram of the textbook, thin, slightly jagged lines creating a shape vaguely similar to a mountain.

"Huh," He keeps his fingers pressed to the textbook. "It disables electronic devices. That would be ... phones, right?"

He remembers Magnus' light teasing about how backwards wizards and witches can be, especially where technology and communication are concerned. It would be, well, kind of fun to halt the use of Magnus' cherished muggle mobiles with magic. It's a little more difficult to disable an owl, after all.

Though, Magnus has an owl now. Who. Or, rather  _Doctor_  Who. Magnus had stressed the title a lot. Apparently it's some pun on a muggle show, Clary and Simon had almost fallen off their chairs when Magnus told them.

Magnus had been surprised, that neither Alec, Jace or Isabelle knew what he was talking about, but muggle television isn't really something the Lightwood's are familiar with. It was more of a myth, growing up, whispers they'd hear from other kids, but never something they'd witnessed themselves. They've seen a few pre-approved movies, the odd educational show or begrudgingly permitted program, but nothing as exciting as Magnus apparently has.

Alec's rather curious about this  _Doctor Who_ show. Maybe, maybe one day Magnus might show it to him. That would be nice.

Something sharp spikes in his side, and Alec startles, spinning to glare at Jace with heated eyes. "Why did you poke me?" He asks, incredulously.

Jace stares, eyes wide and mouth a little slack. "You spaced out, it was the only way to get your attention." He explains. "The lesson is over, buddy."

"Oh," Alec feels his cheeks heat up, but elects not to pay it any attention. "Right." He starts scooping up his books, his quill, ignoring the heavy feel of Jace's gaze on him. "We'd better, hurry then. I mean I've got Potions, and the last thing I need is to be late."

"You know Professor Garroway wouldn't hold it against you." Jace points out.

He has a point. Professor Garroway is one of the nicest of the Hogwarts staff, and he's always got a kind smile, but he doesn't make Potions any easier.

"Still." Alec locks eyes with Jace, thumb brushing against the feather of his quill. "I want to get off to the best start this year, you know? I don't want to miss out on anything."

The last thing he needs is to have to play catch-up on the class he's the worst at.

Jace smiles, in understanding. He may not get it personally, but he gets why it's important for Alec, and that's enough. "See you for Quidditch practice, later?"

Julian isn't letting Alec slip under the radar. He and Emma are teaming up to train Jace and Alec, as well as a few other promising recruits, because it's their last year and, in Emma's words, she wants them to be taught by the best while they still can.

Alec isn't naive, he knows he won't get on to the team this year, he's not  _that_  good, but he enjoys the practice, and Julian is really helpful - it would be stupid of him to pass up such an opportunity. Especially with Julian mentioning that he's considering hosting weekend sessions with just Alec, to focus more directly on his specific skills.

Besides, Jace probably won't go to practice alone - he'll definitely get on the team, he's good, but he has this thing about training with Alec, and he doesn't mind using puppy-dog eyes to their full effect to get what he wants.

It's just easier to go along with it.

"I might be a little late," Alec admits. It's a long way from the dungeons to the Quidditch field. "But I'll meet you there."

They leave the classroom and part ways in the corridor, Jace heading off with a quick salute, Alec a more reserved wave. It feels nice, to sink so easily back into some semblance of a routine, classes and Quidditch and meeting in the Great Hall to catch up with his friends.

He'd missed it more than he realised, and now Isabelle is here too - realistically, he has all he really needs.

 

* * *

 

"So, how are you finding Hogwarts?" Magnus asks, his question directed towards both newcomers of their group.

Isabelle answers first, grin as bright as the candles floating above their heads. "It's awesome. Much more interesting than being at home, believe me. And the classes are so interesting!"

Beside her, Alec and Jace share matching amused looks. The Lightwood trio, as Magnus has come to affectionately refer to them, are lined up along the other side of the Slytherin table, jostling elbows and sharing matching grins. Clary and Simon are at the Ravenclaw table with Catarina and Ragnor, something about muggle technology and medicines - Magnus hadn't bothered questioning it.

Isabelle, mindless of her brothers' shared glance, continues: "In Herbology we're looking at the Asphodel root - did you know that it's considered sacred to Persephone, the Greek goddess of spring and  _Queen_  of the Underworld?" She sighs, a little dreamily. "What a title."

"You want to be Queen of the Underworld?" Alec asks, staring at his sister with wide and incredulous eyes. "Really?"

Isabelle shrugs, casually digging at her shepherd's pie. "I mean, why not? It would certainly be an interesting job. Never a boring day."

Alec rolls his eyes, but Magnus knows the gesture is nothing but fond. He turns to Raphael, who's sitting rather quietly on his left.

"What about you?" He asks, nudging Raphael gently with his elbow. "How was your day?"

Raphael is a very quiet, reclusive kind of person, but Magnus isn't one to give up. He'd promised Raphael he'd show him around, introduce him to the little quirks and tricks he'd picked up from his own time here, so that the Slytherin first year is comfortable and knows his way around. Someone as clearly self-sufficient as Raphael needs the support early on, to limit the time he's dependent on others.

Magnus understands that well.

"I like Astronomy," Raphael admits, quiet enough that only Magnus can really hear. "The fact the stars only come out at night, and that constellations are hidden within them, like secret treasures." He fiddles with something beneath his tie. "And, the idea of Devil's snare, how it reacts to that which it's wrapped around."

"So, off to a good start, then?" Magnus asks. Gentle prodding seems to work best with Raphael, carefully drawing out information without actually pushing.

"It's not like I imagined," Raphael admits.

"How so?" Magnus enquires, quietly.

Raphael glances around the table, at all the different houses and year levels, and exhales softly. "There's a lot of, interaction." He explains. "And a lot to remember, but it's also ... easier, than I was expecting."

"I hope I'm at least partially to thank for that..." Magnus raises a curious eyebrow, grinning widely.

Raphael stares at him, dark and deadpan. "Dealing with you is the hardest part." He quips, his demeanour betrayed by the tight quirk of his mouth.

Across the table, Alec makes a sputtering noise. Magnus glances over, eyes widening when he discovers that it's because Alec is trying to hide a laugh behind his palm.

Affronted, Magnus averts his attention. "Excuse me?" He stares at Alec, fighting to keep a smile off his face. "Something funny,  _Alexander?_ "

"No," Alec shakes his head, though he's still grinning. "Nothing at all."

"I highly doubt that," Magnus replies, leaning over to pluck a Yorkshire pudding from Alec's plate in retaliation. "You're supposed to be my friend. I cannot believe the level of your betrayal."

"I can't believe the level of your dramatics," Alec mumbles, half under his breath, though Magnus catches most of it.

"See," Jace pipes up, glancing over at Isabelle. "I told you they have a weird friendship."

Alec stares at Jace in shock, but Isabelle nods along as though it all makes sense. Magnus isn't that surprised, he's heard worse things in his life, and besides, Jace isn't wrong. He and Alec do have a weird friendship, but it's their friendship, and it works for them.

Raphael pokes at Magnus' shoulder, drawing his attention. "Thank you," He whispers, once Magnus is looking at him. "For showing me around, and everything. I really appreciate it."

Magnus smiles kindly. "It's my pleasure. You're a part of Slytherin, of the house and of this school, and there's a support network here like you wouldn't believe. You don't have to worry about asking for help, I'm more than happy to give it, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

He glances around the table, at just a fraction of the friend's he's made. "There's a lot of good people here," He says, a little wistfully. "None of them without their faults, but all of them  _good._ "

He doesn't mention the slimeball Morgenstern, because he's trying to comfort Raphael, not scare him. And it's true. The good outweighs the bad in terms of the people here, and Magnus wouldn't trade anything to change it.

Besides, adversity and hardships are supposed to build character ... or so he's heard.

 

* * *

 

"I hate you."

Alec, seemingly unbothered by Magnus' comment, winds a yellow and black scarf around his neck. "You agreed to this," He points out, smiling patiently. "You complained that Quidditch training is going to take up all of my time, and I asked if you wanted to watch, and  _you said yes_."

Magnus shakes his head, glaring at Alec mournfully, his fingers slipping on the buttons of his coat. "You never mentioned it would involve getting up this early."

"Mags, it's nine in the morning."

Magnus sighs, his hands too cold and his brain not awake enough to actually do anything productive, including buttoning up his own coat. "It's the weekend," He points out, a little disdainfully. "Weekends are for sleeping."

"You don't have to come," Alec reminds him, reaching out to swat at Magnus' hands. "Here, let me." He does the button of Magnus' coat for him, his own hands warmed by fingerless cotton gloves he'd had the peace of mind to slip on earlier.

Magnus isn't glaring anymore. There's a softness to his eyes that hadn't been there all morning, and Alec is a little surprised to see it. He'd been greeted with a tired, but effectively heated glare, when Magnus had exited the Slytherin common room, coat hanging haphazardly off his shoulders, scarf shoved frantically into a pocket, cheeks puffy from sleep and hair a right mess.

"I said I would, so I will." Magnus glances down, as Alec steps back. "Thank you."

Alec nods, pressing the palms of his hands together. "I don't know exactly what I'll be learning today, but if I get to put on Quidditch gloves, you can have these ones. They  _should_ fit."

"You would-" Magnus inclines his head slightly. "You would give me your gloves?"

"Well, yeah." Alec doesn't quite understand Magnus' confusion. "I can't wear both, and I don't want your hands to freeze off."

It may be cold here, down in the dungeons where the stone walls repel heat, but the spring morning has a bite to the air, and Magnus isn't really a big fan of cool weather. Alec, on the other hand, knows his body will heat up of its own accord once he starts moving, so isn't as bothered by the idea.

"We should probably get going," Magnus says, a hint of something odd to his tone, though he's smiling in his usual bright way. "You don't want to be late for practice."

He quickly winds his scarf around his neck, then loops one hand through Alec's arm and tucks it into his own pocket. "Besides," He adds, tugging Alec along. "If we stand here any longer, I might just change my mind and duck back inside."

Alec, somehow, doubts that. It might have to do with the fact that Magnus did get out of bed to join him, or the fact he's steadfastly pulling Alec down the hallway, or even just the fact that once Magnus sets his mind to something, he doesn't often change it.

He doesn't mention any of it. Just wrings his hands together before him, and hurries his steps a little to keep up with Magnus - who has, he's learnt, gotten taller over the summer. Not by much, just a few inches over Alec, but he's more inclined, and able, to take longer steps than Alec.

Part of Alec only hopes that he'll get a growth spurt soon.

 

* * *

 

Isabelle flops down at the Gryffindor table beside Jace. He'd dragged her down for breakfast early, because he wants to show her the Quidditch fields, and likely to show off during training.

Isabelle isn't exactly going to pass up an opportunity to get a behind-the-scenes look at the place Ginevra Potter got her start. Isabelle used to read her columns in the Daily Prophet - Jace would sweet-talk the house-elves into handing it to them instead of throwing it out after their parents were done with it.

It's the only publication Maryse and Robert Lightwood allow on their estate, and while Isabelle cares for little else in it, the commentary by Ginevra Potter, a former Holyhead Harpy, is an amazing insight into Quidditch, something she's always been interested in.

And now she's here, at the school where it all began.

"Hi, Iz." Clary, the red-head Gryffindor Jace has made an odd affinity with, waves from the other side of the table. Simon waves with his toast; he really is as interesting as Isabelle had presumed from Alec's letters.

Alec wasn't wrong, he's very talkative and makes more muggle references than anyone except Clary can keep up with, but Simon is nice, and interesting, and he keeps Alec company as a Hufflepuff, so Isabelle can't find any faults.

Actually, that reminds her...

"Hey, Simon?" Isabelle waits until Simon glances her way before continuing. "Have you seen Alec?"

Simon frowns, glancing down the table like he's surprised at Alec's absence too. Then he startles, eyes wide. "Oh!"

He settles, though now he's grinning - Isabelle understands Alec's comments about whiplash during conversations with Simon. She's experienced it a few times herself. "He's with Julian Blackthorn, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, he mentioned something yesterday about coming down to breakfast early, and I think he was going to get Magnus to join."

"Magnus?" Clary turns to Simon in disbelief. "Magnus hates Quidditch."

Jace gasps, a little vexed. "He  _hates_ Quidditch?"

"Well," Clary rolls her eyes, somewhat fondly. Isabelle can sympathise. Jace is acting like Magnus said he hates  _him._  "He doesn't hate it, he's just not as invested as the rest of you are. He doesn't really understand it, the game or the incentive to fly miles and miles in the air."

"I can see his point," Simon mumbles around a bite of toast.

Jace shakes his head, with his usual over-exaggerated air of drama. "I can't believe Alec invited Magnus along, but not me. I actually like Quidditch, I could have used the extra training - and Julian is really good, too."

"He is good, but he isn't the best."

Isabelle glances behind her at the sudden, unfamiliar voice. Her gaze lands on a fairly tall girl - tall compared to them - with gold hair like strands of wheat tied up in an intricate braid that Isabelle is, admittedly, a little jealous of, standing behind Jace's chair with a firm hand clasped on his shoulder. She carries with her an aura of strength, and importance, like she knows that she is respected and admired within the school, but it's not condescending or snobbish. It's just something to be noticed.

"Emma," Jace exclaims with a grin.

Right.  _Emma_ , Emma Carstairs, the girl Jace hadn't stopped gushing about over the summer. Isabelle had wanted to meet her, but she'd been a little MIA over the week. Probably because it's her last year - Isabelle can't imagine the mountain-load of stress she's under.

"Hey, Jace." Emma ruffles Jace's blond locks, and to Isabelle's surprise, he lets her. "Are you jealous Jules took Alec out for an early practice? Do you want to swap coaches?"

She's teasing, Isabelle can see that much, but the mottle of red on Jace's cheeks stop her from mentioning it. Instead, she shares a conspiratorial grin with Clary, who seems to have also caught on. Simon, to his credit, just keeps munching on his breakfast.

"No," Jace shakes his head, vigorously. "I'm just surprised. Usually you guys hold sessions together."

Emma shrugs, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Julian wants to focus on honing Alec's skills, and I need to get you prepared before games start. You're both suited for different parts, and although you're not quite there yet-" She squeezes Jace's shoulder. "You have good potential for killing it as a Beater. Best to get some experience in you while I can. Can't lose to anyone, not this year."

"I'm-" Jace swallows, his entire face lighting up slowly, like sunrise. "I'm on the team?"

"Kind of." Emma grins. "You're a wildcard move, and I know that, but you have good balance, and you're not afraid to put your all in a hit. You're on the team provisionally, if someone can't play, or needs to swap half-way through, for injury or whatever - you're on the list to play."

"Uh-" Jace's jaw hangs, slack and eloquent. Isabelle pats his back, a little forcefully, to push the words out of him. He doesn't even turn her way, proving just how deep his surprise truly runs. "Thank you."

He stands up, chair scraping along the floor. He hesitates, hands clenching and unclenching by his side. Emma rolls her eyes, and then pulls him forward for a hug. It's short and kind of sweet and Isabelle presses her lips together to stop a laugh from slipping out.

Jace is rocking on his feet, back and forth, back, and forth. "Thank you, Emma." He gushes. Actually gushes, the words rushing out like the swell of a wave. "You won't regret it."

"I hope so." Emma nods at him. "I'll see you on the field in an hour." She offers a quick smile to the rest of them, and then darts off, braid swinging behind her.

Jace is wavering on his feet, staring off in the direction Emma has gone. Isabelle lets him stagger for a minute or so, before taking pity and grabbing his shoulder to tug him down onto his seat.

"Congrats, Jace." She means it, despite her teasing grin. "You're one step closer to becoming Harry Potter."

 

* * *

 

Magnus feels dizzy.

He's not even in the air, nowhere near a broom. He's sitting on the ground, back against a tree, watching Alec dip and twirl and stretch for that odd dodgeball-looking-thing; Alec did tell him the name, but he's forgotten it already.

Alec is the one reaching death-defying heights, all whilst Julian shouts out commands that mean very little to Magnus, always catching the dodgeballs and throwing them through hoops, somehow never falling from his broom.

The fact that Alec can stay on is an accomplishment itself in Magnus' eyes, but he doesn't have to understand Quidditch to recognise that Alec is good. The blinding grin that doesn't seem to be leaving Julian's face helps cement that point; Magnus hadn't seen it falter from the moment they'd walked onto the field.

It had stayed when Alec had introduced them properly, explained that Magnus is there to watch, which Julian was actually excited about, because it gives Alec an audience, something more to care about. Magnus had seen it morph into something with a little more pride as soon as Alec comfortably shot into the air, without waiting for Julian to do so first.

Magnus doesn't really understand how Alec could think he isn't good enough, but he's not about to belittle Alec by pointing it out. He's here, in part, for support - and to get a better grasp on the sport, as he gets the feeling he'll be at a lot of games over the coming years - and support is what he's going to give.

Even if he thinks Alec is a bit of a dill for willingly participating in such an odd activity.

Really. They fly in the air and throw dodgeballs and some of them carry bats and there's a small golden thing that's supposedly important - Magnus used to think that rugby was a weird sport, in part because of the inclination towards it a lot of the older, rougher boys at the orphanage had, but at least they remained on the ground.

Julian calls out something indiscernible to Alec, who nods, and then they're flying off in different directions, and Magnus' secondhand anxiety grows with each centimetre between them. He's not sure why, he trusts that they both know what they're doing, but still, the slow, sick feeling rises inside him like a tide.

Alec drops down an inch or so, turning so he's facing the same way Julian is. Magnus can see him a little better like this, see the way his hands are wrapped around the end of the broomstick, the concentrated tilt of his head.

Julian shouts out something that sounds a lot like "now" and then they're both moving. Alec shoots forward, Julian following a leg after, something dark and blurry passing from Julian over to Alec, who's still moving, still flying smoothly through the air like it's second-nature.

Alec, not slowing down a notch, holds his arm out and then pushes the dark thing forward.

It sails through the hoop and then Julian and Alec are both cheering, the former a little louder, and even though neither of them can see, Magnus claps and cheers a little himself. He couldn't keep up with what Alec had just done, it had all happened so fast, and he's pretty sure that's the entire point.

He pulls himself up just as Alec and Julian touch ground, touching his pockets to check he has everything he'd sat down with. Alec's scarf is tucked in one, his gloves in the other - they did fit, but Magnus' hands had gotten pretty warm at one point, and he didn't think it was very fair to sweat in another person's gloves.

Alec's talking to Julian, so Magnus hovers off to the side, taking note of the pure elation practically leaking off Alec, in much the same way that magic does. Quidditch seems to just  _relax_  Alec, like little else. He smiles easier, his shoulders aren't as tight, because he's doing something that he loves, that he's reasonably good at, that he has potential with.

Julian claps Alec's shoulder, in the protective, brotherly way he seems to act around most kids, Hufflepuffs especially, and says something to Alec that leaves the poor kid a little red. Julian then pulls back, saluting to Magnus with a loose wave, and a kind smile that Magnus' isn't sure he's ever seen him without.

Alec stands there, a little rocky on his feet, as Julian walks off. When he turns to Magnus, the smile is still there, just a little more private.

"I have to admit," Alec's gripping his broom a little sheepishly, knuckles tight, which doesn't make sense because Magnus has always believed that Alec is the kind of person a broom is made for. "I wasn't sure you'd stay."

"You think so little of my promises?" Magnus knows Alec doesn't mean anything bad by it, he just can't pass up an opportunity to dig a little. "Alexander, I am truly hurt."

"No," Alec shakes his head, cheeks still red. "It's just - I thought you would get bored, just watching."

"You were kind of fascinating to watch," Magnus admits, quietly. He pulls Alec's scarf from his own pocket, wrapping it loosely around Alec's neck. "You were so much faster than I was expecting."

"It was a pretty good practice," Alec ducks his gaze, then exhales, before returning his gaze to Magnus'. "Julian mentioned he's really happy with how much I'm improving."

"So," Magnus nudges Alec gently with his elbow. "Do you believe that you're good enough to make it onto the team, now?"

"Not quite," Alec smiles wrily, the corners of his mouth twisting ever so slightly. "There are only three spots, for a Chaser. I doubt out of the whole school  _I'm_  going to get in. Which is okay, there's always next year."

Alec says it so casually, so easily, as though he truly believes that.

"I bet you're wrong." He states, firmly. Alec parts his mouth, likely to protest, but Magnus doesn't let him. "No, Lightwood, just hold on, okay? You don't believe me, and that's fine, you don't have to."

Magnus pulls out Alec's gloves, and hands them over, hoping the gesture speaks as much for itself now as it had when Alec had been the instigator. "I think you'll get on the team this year. I think you are good enough. Better than just good enough. And I bet you're wrong."

Alec shakes his head, in much the same way he does around Jace. "You just want to be right all the time," He mutters, voice soft and quiet. "And you can't stand to do that and agree with me."

It's not entirely true, but it's not entirely wrong either. Magnus does like being right, likes the satisfaction it brings, and he likes the way Alec's entire expression seems to scrunch when anyone tries to argue with him and he loses.

But this time isn't like other times. This time isn't because he wants to be right, it's because he knows he is.

"Just, wait." Magnus grins. "You'll get on the team, and I'll be right, and we'll both be happy."

"You're a dork," Alec exclaims. He bumps Magnus' shoulder, a familiar gesture that sends a pleasant, sweeping warmth through Magnus.

He's been back, around Alec and in his presence for over a week, and he's a little surprised to find that he'd actually missed Alec more than he realised. The ache from summer is still there, when he thinks about having to go back, but it's buried beneath an overwhelming fondness that grows every time he even glances towards any of his friends, but Alec, it seems, in particular, helps the ache fade for a while.

Because Alec, despite their difficult beginning and less than normal circumstances, is his best friend.

Magnus has never really had a best friend before, but he knows that is what this is. There's a slight distinction between the way he feels around Alec and the way he feels around the others, enough to be noticeable and important.

Alec is his  _best friend._ That's something special, and something he intends to hold dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express with words how excited I am to return. This story has already become such an important aspect of my life, and although we haven't exactly stopped working on it, I've really missed seeing your reactions to chapters.
> 
> I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed this, as much as I enjoyed writing it - scheduling will return to normal from here on out. <3 
> 
> All the love, Nin.


	3. Home (Is With You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gryffindor win a Quidditch match, Alec doesn't have a puppy, and Magnus breaks his first school rule.

  
The Great Hall is filled with rowdy Gryffindors, three weeks before Christmas, shouting across the hall to each other, passing around sweets from Hogsmeade, jabbering excitedly about their afternoon Quidditch success.

The first Quidditch match of the year was, Alec readily admits, a phenomenal game. It had been fast-paced, keeping the audience on the edge of the seats, with occasional bouts of brutality that had left even Alec wincing. The Gryffindor team had, much like last year, got themselves off to a solid start to the year.

It's not Gryffindor's substantial victory that's making Alec sit picking at his dinner, somewhat deflated. The Ravenclaws look similarly downtrodden, but they, unlike Alec, have an excuse—they just lost.

He doesn't know why he's so incapable of being at least neutral about the whole affair. Just from an educational standpoint, he should be thinking about the differences between Emma's tactics and Julian's, and about their respective strengths and weaknesses, but—

There's a clatter across the table; he glances up to see Magnus dropping his plate onto the hardwood surface with unnecessary force, face set in determination as he flops down onto the bench opposite Alec.

"What's wrong?" Magnus demands, without preamble.

Alec's eyes flicker up from Magnus' pasta to his face, caught off-guard by Magnus' abrupt arrival. He'd sat down with Simon, but Simon had quickly been dragged off by Clary and Isabelle to join them at the Gryffindor table. They'd tried to persuade Alec to come, too, but Isabelle had eventually told Clary to _leave Alec to his moping_.

"Hey." Magnus waves his hand in front of Alec's face, and Alec blinks out of his thoughts. "Really, what's wrong? You look like someone just kicked your puppy."

Alec squints at him. "I don't have a puppy." Although, if he's being honest, he'd quite like one. They're very sweet. Not that his parents would ever welcome something so _muggle_ into their house.

"Stop being so literal, and tell me what's making you mooch around like a premature teenager," Magnus says.

"Nothing," Alec says. "I'm fine. The Quidditch was good."

Magnus narrows his eyes. "I suppose it was," he says, watching Alec closely. "Jace played well, from what I could tell."

Alec tries not to let his face betray him, and makes a noncommittal humming noise in response.

Emma had dashed into the Great Hall this morning at breakfast, and breathlessly told Jace that they needed him to play in the match, because one of their beaters had broken his arm, and Madame Promfrey was refusing to let him back on a broom for at least a week, despite having mended it in a heartbeat.

Jace _had_ played well, Magnus is right. He'd surpassed expectations, contributing more than his fair bit to the game, which was no mean feat for a scrawny twelve-year-old in a position that tended to be held by the beefier sixth and seventh years. And he'd been rightfully in the midst of the rambunctious team hug at the end of the match.

Alec doesn't realise how long they've been silent for until Magnus makes a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

"Are you jealous of Jace?" he asks, astonishment plain in his voice.

Alec snaps his head up, eyes wide. Denial is on the tip of his tongue, but the moment he meets Magnus' gaze, the words seem to evaporate. He can't lie to Magnus. It's physically impossible—and rather irritating.

"I don't know," Alec says, exhaling. "Maybe. Not— I don't resent him for getting to play. I'm proud of him. I just..."

He trails off, dropping his gaze back down to his mostly untouched pasta in the futile hope that Magnus will understand. For someone who barely understands the difference between a Quaffle and a Bludger (and only after a long explanation from Alec after Magnus had admitted to having caught on only to the fact that someone needed to catch the Golden Snitch, and not much else) it probably seems like rather a lot of heartache over nothing.

But Magnus' voice, when he speaks, is gentle, generous, and in no way critical. "You just wish you could experience what Jace did, today. And someone our age doing it makes it seem less impossible, so now you feel like you're doing something wrong and letting yourself down."

Entirely still, Alec stares at Magnus, unblinking, because yes, that's exactly it. That's exactly what he feels. It's not bitterness towards Jace, it's bitterness towards himself, at what he doesn't have.

"How are you so much better at putting things into words than me?" Alec mumbles. "It's not fair."

Magnus laughs a little, and pats Alec's hand. "It's called envy, Alexander."

"Is that different to jealousy?"

Magnus sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes heavenward and thumping his forehead down on the Hufflepuff table with an ominous _thud_. Alec is about to ask, with some concern, whether Magnus is alright, when Magnus tilts his head so his chin is resting on the table, gazing up at him.

"Yes, it's different," Magnus tells him, with the air of someone explaining the innate differences between muggle political parties to someone who is entirely uneducated on the topic. "Envy is wanting what someone else has. Jealousy is feeling that something you have is threatened by a third party."

Alec pauses. "Huh. I didn't know that."

"It's a distinction lost on most of the population," Magnus says, straightening up and waving a hand airily. "Before I got my Hogwarts letter, I'd decided I wanted to be a psychologist. I got a lot of nerdy books from the library."

That makes Alec smile, Jace and Quidditch and his own shortcomings all but forgotten at the sheepish smile on his friend's face. "I can imagine you doing that," Alec says. "You'd be good at it."

Magnus huffs out a little laugh, and shrugs. "Maybe. It's not exactly on my list anymore, with all...this." He gestures broadly at the hall around them.

"Why not? There are wizards and witches who become psychologists."

Surprise flashes over Magnus' face. "Really? Isn't it a bit...muggle?"

"Well, yeah." Alec shrugs. "But a whole generation of people grew up in a war. We needed some psychologists."

Magnus snaps his fingers abruptly, as though Alec had reminded him of something. "I was meaning to ask. The Slytherin prefects gave us all sheets about OWL choices for next year. I don't even know what some of these subjects _are_."

Magnus looks mildly distressed as he tugs a sheet of paper out of the pocket of his robes and unfolds it on the table between them. It takes a significant amount of effort for Alec to quell his smile, while they run through the list of extra subjects on offer, and Alec explains some of them to Magnus.

"Hang on," Magnus says, holding up a hand while Alec explains - to his knowledge - what Arithmancy is. "Divination is predicting the future with crystal balls, and Arithmancy is doing it on some grounding of science?" He pulls a face. "Why on earth would anyone take Divination?"

Alec's lips quirk up. "It's not quite that simple. And Divination is easier."

Magnus shrugs. "I like maths. Guessing is boring."

"My parents think it's all stupid. Isabelle is determined to take Muggle Studies when she gets to third year, and has been since she was about three. Our parents are less than impressed."

"I'm definitely taking Arithmancy," Magnus says firmly, and scrawls a lopsided star next to the subject with a quill that someone has discarded next to the now-empty bowl of garlic bread. "And...Study of Ancient Runes?" He's crunches up his nose as he peers down the list, and the only word Alec's brain supplies to describes the expression is _adorable_.

"You know you've got another six months to decide, right?" Alec asks, fond amusement in his voice. "The Hufflepuff prefects haven't even given us subject lists yet."

"Ragnor and Catarina have already given theirs in," Magnus tells him distractedly, still frowning down at the paper. "How physical is Care of Magical Creatures?"

Alec shrugs. "I don't know. I would imagine it's more _outside_ than physical."

"Why are you being so calm about this?" Magnus asks, outrage clear in his voice. "This is terrifying! This is like GCSEs! This is worse! I'd decided what GCSEs I was going to do! Then I got told I was a wizard and my life plans were all messed up!" He looks incredibly put out about it.

"I don't know what those are," Alec says, "but I'll take your word for it."

Magnus huffs. "Maybe you should think about taking Muggle Studies."

"I am thinking about it," Alec says. "Clearly not as actively as you, though."

Magnus lifts his eyes to glare at him. "Arse."

"Please don't start swearing around Izzy," Alec begs him. "Jace has already taught her far too much."

Magnus assures him that he wasn't planning on it, and they go back to discussing subjects, Magnus explaining the muggle examination system - most of which seems rather similar to the wizarding one - when they exhaust the topic.

They don't stray near Quidditch, and Alec finds himself laughing as Magnus recounts a story about an awful muggle teacher and a pot of superglue, entirely distracted from his earlier woes.

***

Alec really isn't having a good week, Magnus thinks, distantly, as a rather unpleasant smell permeates the air, drifting from Alec's cauldron. The Quidditch Incident, as Magnus is now thinking of it, had been followed by Julian cancelling a training session due to an overload of NEWT work that had left Alec in a sour mood, with the week now culminating in a rather awful Potions lesson.

Magnus bites down on his lower lip as he waits the prescribed ninety seconds for his concoction of ingredients to curdle, and glances over at Alec. It's difficult to tell whether he's about to burst into tears or throw his cauldron across the room.

(To be fair, Magnus has had equally-disastrous Charms lessons, setting fire to things and having charms do almost precisely the opposite of what they're supposed to. He remembers charming his quill orange one lesson, last year. He can sympathise with Alec's plight.)

"Alec—"

"Don't," Alec says, voice steady despite the despair clear in his eyes. "Don't even— Just don't."

Glancing over at Professor Garroway, who is currently peering into Simon's cauldron on the desk in front of them where he's sitting with another Hufflepuff girl with dark curly hair, Magnus does as Alec asks, and shuts his mouth, turning the page in his textbook to find the next set of instructions.

To Magnus' relief - because the growing feelings of poorly contained rage flooding off of Alec are beginning to make Magnus feel a touch uncomfortable - Professor Garroway calls the class to attention, sets a brief summary essay for homework, and dismisses them.

As they're packing their things up, Alec more than a little forlornly, Professor Garroway appears by their desk, resting a gentle hand on the desk.

"Lightwood," he says, not unkindly, "stay just for three minutes. Let me run through a couple of things with you, then you can go to lunch, okay?"

Alec looks determinedly anywhere but Magnus, or his classmates, and jerks his head in a sharp nod. Magnus can see his cheeks turning a furious red; an acute feeling of sympathy shoots through him. He knows how proud Alec is.

Lily and Lydia are lingering by the door, waiting for him, so Magnus leaves Alec to it, and heads out to join them—but not before squeezing Alec's forearm lightly.

They're barely three metres out of the door when Sebastian's infuriating, sneering voice slices through the air to Magnus' ears.

"It's odd," Sebastian says, loudly enough for every student in the corridor to hear, "a Lightwood being bad at Potions. And _that_ bad—" He shakes his head, tutting. "There's something wrong with that one, I'm telling you."

Magnus bristles instantly, hatred flashing red in his vision. He grinds his teeth together, and, ignoring Lydia telling him not to, he whirls round, stopping dead in the corridor, so that Sebastian nearly smacks into him.

It's with a vengeful feeling of satisfaction that Magnus realises that his growth spurt over the summer sets him two or three inches taller than Sebastian Slimeball.

He narrows his eyes, tipping his chin up to emphasis his newly realised height, and stares down at Sebastian. "Would you care to repeat that?" Magnus' voice is frigid; Sebastian swallows visibly.

But he doesn't back down. Instead, with fucking Camille Belcourt smirking at his shoulder, he shoots Magnus a smile that Magnus is desperate to smack off his face.

"I think you heard exactly what I said." Sebastian raises an eyebrow. "But I'll say it again, as you appear to have lost your hearing over the summer. I said, for a Lightwood to be that cack handed and useless, there must be something wrong with them. You know–" he leans closer to Magnus, eyes glinting "– _mentally_."

Magnus can't control himself. Before Sebastian can so much as blink, he's got his wand out, jabbed right between Sebastian's eyes, chest rising and falling heavily as sheer rage floods through him.

Sebastian goes cross-eyed as he looks down at Magnus' wand tip. "What are you going to do, Bane?" he asks, softly. "Jinx me? I don't think jinxes were in first-year curriculum, you fool."

Magnus jabs his wand, and Sebastian takes a stumbling half-step backwards. "Funny thing," Magnus breathes, "growing up where I did, I had to learn how to stand on my own. I've never been a spoilt, pandered-to Daddy's boy. You think jinxes weren't the _first_ thing I looked up?"

For a wonderful, shining moment, Sebastian looks hesitant, eyes flickering between Magnus' wand and face. Magnus revels in having made Morgenstern uncertain.

Then the door to the dungeons opens, revealing Professor Garroway and Alec. Every head in the corridor, save Magnus and Sebastian's, snaps to the open doorway; Professor Garroway raises his eyebrows.

"I hope this isn't what I think it is," he says, smoothly. "Wands away."

Jaw clenching and nostrils flaring as he stares at Sebastian with unbridled hatred, Magnus stuffs his wand into the pocket of his robes. He exercises heroic self-control to stop himself punching Morgenstern in his stupid face.

Sebastian, of course, turns immediately to Professor Garroway, Camille simpering at his side. "Professor Garroway—"

But Professor Garroway holds up a hand, looking down at Sebastian sternly. "I don't want to hear it. You haven't got a leg to stand on after what I walked in on yesterday, Morgenstern, and you've missed two deadlines before the term is even up."

"But my father—"

Professor Garroway's mouth twists in a sarcastic smile. "Yes, Mr Morgenstern, I know exactly who your father is. I'm afraid it won't earn you any favours with me."

With that, he sweeps past the gawping students, and Magnus is _sure_ he hears him mutter, "In fact, exactly the opposite."

***

Alec can't bear to look at Magnus for the rest of the day.

He's not stupid. He knows - he can guess - why Magnus was at Sebastian's throat like that, right after such a bloody disaster of a Potions lesson. Sebastian has made it clear, this year, that any respect he might have afforded Alec due to his surname is redundant by his associating with Magnus.

Sebastian can shove his opinions up his arse, for all Alec cares. He couldn't care less about Sebastian's opinion of him. But that doesn't mean he wants other people defending him, and his idiocy.

He spots Magnus in the Great Hall the moment he walks in from a Transfiguration lesson with the Ravenclaws, in which he'd allowed Simon's incessant but oddly calming chatter to wash over him. Magnus meets his gaze, and smiles at him where he's sitting at the Slytherin table with Lily, Lydia, and that Raphael kid, but Alec swallows and looks away, heading instead over to the Gryffindor table.

Isabelle frowns at him when he sits down, and leans over from where she'd been talking to a group of Gryffindors in her own year. "Alec, you know Magnus is over there, right?"

Alec shrugs, grabbing a piece of bread from a plate to pick at. He doesn't feel like he can stomach the soup or the sausages and mash on offer.

"So?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. "Are there rules against having dinner with my sister?"

Isabelle's concerned look doesn't go, but he's saved from further interrogation by the approach of Jace and Clary, who are both deep in conversation, heads bent together. They'd had an argument last week, and Alec is more than relieved that they've made up. Jace had been insufferable, moping around and whinging about how much he missed Clary.

Alec excuses himself before any of his friends are ready to go back to the common room, and even Jace drags himself out of his conversation with Clary long enough to give him an odd, furrowed-brow look that makes Alec want to roll his eyes.

Through his peripheries, he sees Magnus watching him from across the hall, and a mild feeling of guilt settles in the pit of his stomach. He glances away before the sensation can consume him whole, and hurries out of the hall to bed.

***

Growing up in an orphanage, with little more than nothing to his name, has graced Magnus with the advantage of having a thick skin. He's not invulnerable to upset, or offence, or fits of anger and occasional bouts of pettiness, but he's not delicate.

Three days of being blatantly ignored by Alexander, however, is enough to make his heart ache and his stomach twist and his chest tighten. He swallows his hurt the first four times he tries to approach Alec, only for Alec to do his very best to avoid him; after that, he stops trying. Alec makes no move to approach him.

He finds himself lamenting his sorrows to Raphael one night in the common room, both curled up with homework on opposite ends of a comfy black leather sofa in front of a dying fire. Raphael makes humming noises as Magnus talks, but Magnus doesn't really think he's listening particularly carefully. Which is fine. Magnus just needs to vent.

But then, not looking up from his book, Raphael says, "Maybe he's just embarrassed," and Magnus thinks he might have misjudged.

He pauses, quill hovering still over his parchment between words, and he stares up at Raphael. "I'm sorry?"

"Well." Raphael scratches through a word, eyes roaming across the double page his Herbology textbook is open to. "He's a Lightwood. They're proud. He got insulted. You defended him rather than him doing it himself. Now he's embarrassed."

Magnus is about to open his mouth to tell Raphael that it's an utterly preposterous concept, because it's not like Alec hasn't defended Magnus to Sebastian before, when he pauses, considering. It's true, Alec _is_ proud. He is the kind of person who wants to stand on his own two feet, without leaning on anyone else.

It seems so ridiculous, but the more Magnus thinks about it...

"Raphael," he says, clapping the other boy's ankle, "you are a genius."

Raphael lifts his gaze slowly, giving Magnus a deadpan, _Really?_ sort of expression with more salt in it than a body that size should be able to contain, and Magnus can only grin in response.

He has to find Alexander. Now.

***

When Magnus climbed out of the Slytherin common room, dressed in just his pyjamas beneath his robe, he hadn't thought about the fact that the curfew was at least an hour ago. It's probably nearly midnight, and students aren't supposed to leave their common rooms after ten—unless they're in the sixth or seventh year, or are prefects, of course.

Magnus doesn't fall into any of those categories, he realises abruptly, as he spies Peeves the poltergeist floating along near the ceiling, upside-down on his back, appearing to swim a lazy backstroke through the air. He's humming off-key, mumbling something about a _looney_ girl called Lovegood under his breath.

Heart pounding, Magnus darts behind a statue. He's grateful for his skinny build as he presses himself between the statue and the wall, closing his eyes as Peeves meanders past, still singing tunelessly.

He stays unmoving for several long seconds, adrenaline racing through him. He peeks out from behind the statue carefully before he begins to pick his way along the corridors, feet padding silently along the cold stone floors. Years of living in an orphanage has allowed him to become rather adept at evading notice and slipping under the radar.

He's reaches the Hufflepuff common room without incident, except the near-miss with Peeves, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Hoping the password hasn't changed since last week, when he and Alec had spent an evening doing homework in the Hufflepuff common room, he opens his mouth to whisper, and—

"Magnus Bane."

Magnus freezes, ice shooting through his veins, and he feels his throat bob as fear creeps down his spine. He hasn't even lost any house points since joining Hogwarts, let alone had detention—and now he's going to screw that track record right up.

He turns slowly, wondering who, other than a teacher, could possibly know his name. Julian Blackthorn stands in the corridor, shadows dancing across the handsome planes of his face, eyebrows raised. He's got his thumbs hooked casually in the front pockets of his jeans, hair tousled as though he jumped off his broomstick and got straight on patrol.

Fuck. Magnus had been so busy trying to avoid teachers, he'd forgotten that prefects would be patrolling closer to dormitories. And Julian is _head boy_ this year—he's well and truly damned to hell.

Or, rather, a month's worth of detention.

"People usually scramble for an explanation and beg me not to dock house points at this point," Julian says, lips twitching as though he's trying not to show his amusement.

"I—" Magnus stares at Julian, finding himself utterly unable to come up with any excuse that sounds even remotely plausible. So he goes for the other option. He thinks Julian might prefer the truth to some half-arsed lie, anyway. "I was looking for Alec," he admits, glancing down at the floor rather than looking into Julian's piercing eyes. "We—haven't really been talking. I came here on a whim."

Julian's eyebrows furrow, and blatant, unconcealed concern etches itself into the creases of his forehead and between his eyes where he's frowning.

"Is that why Alec was so off the other day?" Julian asks. "He seemed upset in training. I ended our session early. He was making poor decisions and he seemed incredibly distracted. I tried to talk to him, but he didn't seem like he wanted to talk, so I let him be."

"He hasn't had a good week. Last week. And we didn't talk all weekend, or today."

Julian purses his lips, looking momentarily torn, before his jaw sets, and he holds Magnus' gaze. "If I get the Alec I know back on my Quidditch pitch for this week's training session, I didn't see you here," he says, walking towards the common room door, "and we've never had this conversation."

Magnus gapes at Julian. "Are you serious?"

Julian shrugs, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. He really is very handsome, Magnus thinks, absently. It's no wonder he's such a heartthrob among all the fourth-year girls.

"I want to leave Hufflepuff's Quidditch team with a good future," he says, "and that's Alec."

He lets Magnus into the common room - the password has changed since Magnus was last here - and says goodnight to Magnus, warning him not to risk going back to the Slytherin dormitories tonight and to camp in the common room instead.

To his surprise, Magnus finds himself greeted almost the instant the door swings shut behind him by the sight of his best friend sprawled out on a squishy yellow sofa, face mushed into a cushion, hair in utter disarray. The sight makes something deep inside Magnus twist, and he wants nothing more than to wake Alec up and hug him so hard neither of them can breathe.

Instead, he takes a moment to calm himself after his run-in with Julian and his excursion across the castle. He makes his way across the empty common room, and sits himself on the broad arm of the embroidered sofa.

"Alexander," he whispers, and touches Alec's hair gently. He'd shake his shoulder, but he's hugging a cushion, both arms tucked beneath it, and Magnus can't really get to his shoulders. "Alexander, wake up."

Alec's arms tighten around the cushion for a moment, and then he makes a muffled moaning sound, burying his face deeper into the cushion and shifting away from Magnus' touch.

It takes a moment, but Magnus' persistence pays off. Alec blinks blearily, lifting his head to peer through the dim light sat by the dying fire to where Magnus is sitting by his head.

"Magnus?" he says, voice raspy and sleep-ridden. "What...?" He sits bolt upright, and stares at Magnus with wide eyes. " _Magnus_? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

"Yes," Magnus says, eyes flashing with equal parts annoyance and amusement, "and you haven't spoken to me for three and a half days. I fail to see your point, here."

"You can't just stalk me to my common room," Alec mumbles.

He rubs at his eyes and slumps back against the sofa; Magnus sees the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his heart goes out to him. Alec's brought this upon himself by ignoring Magnus rather than just talking to him, but Magnus isn't unsympathetic.

"I don't care," Magnus says, watching Alec rub and his hands and studiously avoid Magnus' gaze. "You're my best friend, I miss you, and you're upset. I don't care about rules. I care about _you_."

Alec exhales heavily. "Magnus—"

"Come on, Alec." Magnus grabs at his hands to stop that incessant nervous scratching, and holds them firmly between his own. "Talk to me. Is this all about the Sebastian thing, or is it something else?"

"I don't know." Alec's eyes slip shut, and he rests his head against Magnus' knee where Magnus is still perched on the arm of the sofa. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Magnus. I didn't mean to be a bad friend. I just... I don't know."

"You just got so caught in your own head, worrying needlessly, that you couldn't see beyond that?" Magnus suggests, and feels Alec nod. He softens his grip on Alec's hands. "I forgive you. But you have to promise not to blank me for three days in future, unless I've really fucked up."

Alec frowns up at him. "What is it with you and swearing recently? Who did you hang out with over summer?"

Magnus shakes his head. "The library. But stop changing the subject. This is the moment when we talk about whatever upset you so much."

"Embarrassing myself in Potions after a bad week didn't help," Alec says, "and then you having to defend me to Sebastian right afterwards? Which everyone saw?" He shakes his head. "I was mortified. I didn't know what to say to you. I couldn't look at you."

"You've defended me before," Magnus says, and brushes a hand hesitantly through Alec's hair. "It wasn't a big deal. It's what friends do."

Alec's lips quirk up. "Magnus, I've never had friends like this before. It's different with Jace and Iz. They're family. With friends, it's like...I want to be the best version of myself all the time, but I can't. It's not feasible."

"I've never had friends like this either," Magnus says. "And I understand. Wanting to erase the bad things about yourself. It's why I haven't really told you about..." He trails off, thinking of a cold sneer and the fiery pain of hands gripping flesh too hard, and he swallows.

"You don't have to," Alec says, glancing up at him, seeming to know what Magnus means without him having to say it. "I'm not stupid. I know it's not going to be a happy story. You just...say what you like."

"Okay." Magnus squeezes Alec's hands. "You know I'm not perfect, and I know you're not perfect, so can we put this behind us and promise to talk about things from now on?"

"I promise to try my best," Alec says, and Magnus smiles.

"That's good enough for me," he replies, and slips down onto the sofa beside Alec so he can bend down to wrap his arms around his friend like he wanted to the moment he walked in.

Alec's arms close around his torso, chin resting lightly on his shoulder, and Magnus feels the tension of four days bleed out of him as they relax into each other. Hugging Alec is so familiar. It's becoming a staple, expected part of his life, and he doesn't quite know what he'd do without it. Without Alec.

Alec's not just familiar, Magnus thinks as he closes his eyes, Alec's hair tickling his neck in a manner that settles every nervous, aching, anticipatory part of Magnus and lets him feel entirely at peace for the first time in days.

He's beginning to feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this uneccessarily sappy and gross? Yes, this was absolutely uneccessarily sappy and gross. Sue me. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and we'll see you in two weeks with the next chapter from the lovely Malteser24!


	4. Never Easy (Always Worth It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alec lets off some steam, and a game of chess is played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> far away from all the drama and horror in the world, awaits this little fic. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy, and that this might serve as a reminder for those who need it that "happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times"

 

A week later, Magnus threatening to jinx Sebastian is still all that anyone in their friend group - Alec, excluded - can talk about. It's not like more interesting things haven't happened since, such as Simon tripping on his robes and tumbling down switching staircases, or Jace spending a good ten minutes trying to turn a cockroach into a button, mistaking it for a beetle, but no one else seems to care about that.

Alec, for one, wishes that they'd all just let it go already. But no one wants to listen to him.

"I just can't believe you actually pushed Sebastian with your wand and threatened him - I mean, the steel nerve you summoned is incredible." Jace in particular cannot stop gushing about it.

He's sitting opposite Magnus at the Gryffindor table, face alight with pure awe, as though he still can't believe it had happened. Or perhaps, more accurately, that he'd missed it. Magnus makes a comment about capturing it on video next time, basking in the conversation, though it's clear he's taken aback by Jace's enthusiasm. Not surprising, considering how Alec had reacted.

Isabelle nudges Alec with her elbow. He turns around, heat flaring on his cheeks when he realises he's been caught staring. "Have you guys talked about it?" Isabelle asks, prodding gently. "The whole, Sebastian mess?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Alec pokes a few rolling peas around his plate, distractedly. "Sebastian said a nasty thing. Magnus responded the way he thought best." He shrugs, because it really is out of his hands.

Isabelle narrows her eyes. "Since when do you let someone else stand up for you?"

Alec sighs, glancing fleetingly at Magnus, who's still engaging in a somewhat friendly conversation with Jace. "There's nothing I can do about it, Iz. I've explained it to Magnus, this weird thing I have about standing up for myself, and he - he gets it. So, if it happens in the future-" Alec grimaces. "Which it will, because Sebastian won't let it go forever - than I'll handle it myself. Without hexing him."

"To be fair," Isabelle grins. "He didn't actually hex anyone. Just threatened it."

Alec rolls his eyes, with the kind of fond exasperation only lended to his siblings, and now Magnus, it seems. "You're as bad as him, sometimes. It's not worth it - if Professor Garroway hadn't been as lenient, the consequences could have been a lot harsher. He got lucky."

As it is both Magnus and Sebastian were issued with a stern warning from Headmistress McGonogall, and the threat of losing house points were such an incident to occur again.

"I think it's sweet," Isabelle replies. At Alec's confused look, she adds: "Well, say that things had gotten worse, that Sebastian had engaged Magnus in a duel, or gotten detention for pulling out a wand on another person?"

Something tight clenches in Alec's chest. The idea of Magnus getting in trouble, or worse,  _hurt_  ... and all because of Alec, is just - it's too much. He gets that they're friends, good friends, and that carries a certain set of unspoken rules, but there's a difference between standing up for someone because they're your friend, and being on the receiving end of a debilitating hex.

Sure, Sebastian probably isn't strong enough to hex anyone with any kind of force, but what about in a few years, when they're older and stronger? What if Sebastian and Magnus get in a duel in DADA and Magnus ends up under Madame Pomfrey's scrutinisation for a week?

"Alec?"

Isabelle's gripping his shoulder tightly, clicking her other hand in front of his face to get his attention. He blinks himself back to the present, to the rather stifling Great Hall, the sturdy bench beneath him, and the bubbling chatter rumbling around them.

"Uh-" He swallows thickly, pushing his plate away. "I just remembered, I have some Potions homework I need to get done, not really interested in failing, you know?"

Isabelle narrows her eyes, but doesn't try and stop him. There's a worry in them that Alec wishes he could unsee, because he's not stupid enough to think there's another reason it's there.

Magnus raises an eyebrow when he notices Alec's haste, Jace fixed with a similiar look. Alec waves them off with a hasty "goodnight", not wishing to get into everything now. He needs some time away from people who care, as horrible as it sounds, somewhere less suffocating, where he only has to worry about himself and not what anyone else is thinking.

Isabelle's words struck a chord deep inside him. He knows, logically, that he and Magnus are friends, and that comes with it a whole 'do anything for you' impulse, but he'd never considered the lengths that could extend to. Including Magnus in the same protective bubble he holds his siblings in is still something Alec is trying to get used to - he has more friends now than he'd ever even dreamed of, but Magnus is more than just a friend.

Magnus is his best friend, he's the person that Alec thinks of when he has a secret, he's the warm glow in Alec's chest and the laughter that bubbles in his throat. He's practically the only thing Alec could think of over summer, and knowing that they have to spend a few weeks apart at Christmas makes his stomach tighten uncomfortably, so much so that he just - refuses to think about it.

Magnus is the last person Alec ever wants to see hurt. He can't be the source of that pain, indirect or otherwise.

 

* * *

 

"Usually I tell you to get out of your head," Julian juggles a Quaffle distractedly, throwing it from one hand to the other. "Now I'm wondering where you're head is even at, today - because it's certainly not in the game."

Alec's hands tighten around his broom, knuckles grey. It's mid-afternoon, not late, but the wind nips at his cheeks with an icy edge, whipping around his head, loud and roaring. Julian had pulled him out for training, considering the very rare chances they have so close to Christmas break, and Alec knows that it's important for him to concentrate, but his thoughts are erratic and he can't get a hold on any of them.

"What happened?"

Alec swallows back the bitter taste coating his tongue. "Nothing."

Julian stares, sea-green eyes hard, but caring. Alec wonders if it's because he's an innately-kind Hufflepuff, or because he's a prefect, or even just because he's an older brother; one, the other, or an accumulation of them all - either way, there's something about Julian that's warm yet also unyielding. Something trustworthy about him, something that encourages truth and promises that nothing bad will happen as a consequence.

It's so far from what he faces around his parents, he's a little blind-sided.

"It's ... Sebastian."

Nothing new, nothing all that out of the ordinary or surprising. Just the usual scathing glares and muttered remarks for only Alec to hear, but it had just been a lot, today. It was inescapable, everywhere Alec turned, Sebastian was there, and although it was all fleeting looks and cruel words, they'd had an effect on him; Alec hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, if any, and it's all piling on top of him.

It's like nothing can go right for him, today. And he can't push the thoughts away, for they just return with twice as much force, and it's impacting everything, including his practice.

And now, because the universe is clearly against him, Julian has noticed.

Alec exhales shakily, mortification draping over him like a heavy cloak. Julian's still watching him, silently, and although it isn't with even an ounce of scrutiny, Alec still feels it.

"Do you want to stop?" Julian asks, once the silence has become overwhelming. Alec gets the feeling that he could say yes, and that would be it. He just - he doesn't want to stop.

"No." He keeps a careful grip on his broom, instability rocking him. "No, I don't."

Julian grins, and it's startling, but not unwelcome. "Good. In my experience, I've found that ignoring your problems only tends to make them worse. Bashing out a Quaffle though?" Julian throws the ball over, grin widening when Alec catches it without hesitation. "Proven to be a very healthy method for anger management."

Alec stares at the ball, balanced in his right hand as his left keeps him up. It's not a bad idea. Actually, it sounds like the best idea he's heard all day. It's an outlet, and one that will probably benefit him more than any other idea he's heard, such as ... any of Jace's. He seems very intent on duelling, especially on Alec's behalf, despite Alec's firm reminders that duelling is a lot more restricted now, and would probably land them all in detention for at least a month.

"I won't have to, talk, about what's wrong?" Alec doubts that Julian would  _make_  him talk about it, but it's still a question he has to ask.

"Not unless you want to." Julian shrugs. He's always so enviably at ease. It would probably irritate Alec, if it were someone less kind. "I'm not going to make you do something you are uncomfortable with, Alec."

Alec nods, because it makes sense, but there's always a shroud of doubt that he can't shrug off, and it tends to spike in uncertain situations like this. Julian appears by his side, in the space of a blink, and claps his hand over Alec's shoulder. His palm radiates warmth that spreads out to Alec's chest, chasing off the cold that Sebastian's glares had caused.

"Thank you." Alec says, voice hoarser than he feels comfortable with.

"Train hard and become the Chaser I know you can be, the Chaser that Hufflepuff deserves." Julian declares, eyes as bright as his smile. "That is the only thanks I need."

Alec nods, because even if he doesn't believe in his own ability to the same extent that Julian does, it's a goal that he can work towards. Julian just has this way of making hard things feel easy - at the core of it all, Alec is essentially training to play  _Quidditch_ , a notoriously difficult and ocassionally dangerous sport, and he's only twelve.

But it doesn't feel like it. Julian takes away the weight to the task, leaves behind a fun exercise with no expectations.

He makes it enjoyable.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is waiting on the edge of the pitch when Alec finishes Quidditch practice. He's determined to not leave Alec's side, ever since the short-stint that had been their fight the other week, and it's as endearing as it is irritating.

Magnus is becoming as attached as Jace and Isabelle, and Alec knows it's sweet, and knows it's a  _friend_ thing - but sometimes it's like there's nowhere he can turn without running into someone who cares for him, and it can be a lot of pressure.

Alec wouldn't give up any of it. He wouldn't swap out Isabelle's love or Jace's compassion or Magnus' unbending dedication to their friendship, not even for a moment of peace.

But that doesn't mean he can't yearn for it, just a little bit.

"That was a really good practice, Alec." Julian claps a hand over Alec's shoulder, smile as blinding as the sun. His praises are, slowly, becoming something more commonplace and easier to stomach, even if Alec has to remind himself he's good.

Julian has boundless love for Hufflepuff, and would do anything to ensure it's sucess, especially once he's gone. He wouldn't be putting the effort into teaching Alec that he is, if he thought Alec wasn't good enough to get on the team, next year if not this one. Alec isn't really used to being told he's good, and certainly not with the enthusiasm that Julian exudes. He's trying to, though, trying to accept what everyone's saying, and it's easier with each practice, because the harder he works the more he believes it.

"I don't know if we'll be able to squeeze anything else in, before the Christmas break," Julian admits, something sour pulling his smile down. "But I want you to keep practising. You're better than you think you are, and you don't really need me to supervise anymore."

Alec doesn't entirely agree, but he respects Julian too much to mention that. Instead, he thanks the Hufflepuff captain and wishes him luck for his studies, catching Magnus' bouncing frame out of the corner of his eyes.

Julian waves quickly, to the both of them - Magnus turns up at a lot of practices and games for someone who doesn't really like the sport - and heads off the field. Alec runs a hand through his bedraggled, wind-tangled hair, easing the knots that he can't seem to rid himself of. It never seems to last, though, no matter how hard he tries.

"Good practice?" Magnus asks, once Alec is close enough to be heard.

"I think so," Alec bumps Magnus' shoulder, gently. "I had fun."

It's nice having Magnus back. He'd reacted a little, dramatically, considering Magnus had only been trying to help when he stood up against Sebastian, and stupidly let his pride cause a canyon between them. Now he has his best friend back, and it feels as though an actual hole has been filled, a space that Magnus occupies, previously void now pleasantly occupied.

"Well, don't I have the best news for you," Magnus sounds far too sarcastic. Alec is a little apprehensive. There's a devious glint in his eyes that chips at Alec's probably short-lived joy.

"Is it actually good news, or are you trying to protect my feelings?" Alec asks.

Magnus slings an arm around his shoulders. He's not that much taller than Alec, but the height difference is there, and it's enough to grate a little at Alec's patience. He's shorter than everyone. Well, not  _everyone_ , but enough people to make it feel like anyone. He hasn't had his spurt of height, yet, and the longer he goes without it, the more he feels like he's being failed by his own body.

"You know me too well," Magnus declares. His arm tightens around Alec's shoulders, fingers squeezing comfortingly. "You're helping me with this stupid severing charm Flitwick wants us to practice, and I'm going to help you, theoretically, make a hair-raising potion that doesn't tear people's hair from the roots."

"You and I both know that Simon still has an obnoxious amount of hair on his head, he's fine." Alec replies.

The potion had kind of fizzled a bit, and turned a disgusting swamp brown, but Professor Garroway had assured him that it happens, it's not an easy spell and one rat-tail too many can turn things ugly. Magnus, however, understands that even one slip is a failure to Alec, and had ushered endless promises of help from the moment their corner of the classroom had started to smell a bit ... rank.

"Thanks to yours truly," Magnus reminds him, dropping a wink that is so over-the-top Alec can't hold back the bubble of laughter that spills between his lips. "Look, if we don't do it now, we'll have to do it tomorrow, and we have DADA tomorrow, and you and I both know that Aldertree is going to give us a pile of homework for that snarky comment Slimeball Sebastian made about how he resembles a gargoyle."

Alec shakes his head. It had been kind of funny, but both Magnus and himself had the peace of mind to hide their snickers behind their palms. Both to keep themselves out of the trouble that Sebastian had found himself in, and to refrain from giving the Slytherin any satisfaction whatsoever.

However, Aldertree can be quite vindictive when he wants to be, and considering the general reaction of the class, he's not going to let the incident slip by without mention, or justification.

"He does, a little bit," Magnus points out. He hasn't dropped his arm, yet, and there's something warm about walking so close together. Something ... safe. "I mean, he's always creeping over everyone?" Magnus shudders. "It's eerie."

"I suppose," Alec acknowledges, peeking at Magnus with a smirk he can't fight off. "But, you know, we do attend a school that has literal ghosts, one of whom has almost lost his head, and another covered in blood. Not to mention, a poltergeist who has probably driven people insane before."

"Yes, but that is part of the castle, part of the Hogwarts atmosphere." Magnus refutes, not shaken by Alec's argument. "It wouldn't be the same without the ghosts."

"But a surveying professor is the part that scares you?" Alec raises a dubious eyebrow.

Magnus grins, exultated. "Exactly," He genuinely brightens at Alec's response. "Ghosts aren't corporeal. They can do damage, but only so much. Professors can ruin your whole year, they can spread bad things to other teachers and give you a horrible name around the school and keep you back for a year. Ghosts just kind of, hover."

"It's pretty inappropriate to spread a bad name to other professors, about a student." Alec reasons. "Even Sebastian deserves to be treated with the same respect as others by the professors he hasn't done anything to."

"That number is quickly dwindling, I imagine." Magnus comments drily. He's been quite reserved around Sebastian - he's yet to pull a wand on him again, and generally keeps most commments to the safe seclusion of their tight-knit group.

Sebastian is a bully, and the best thing to do around those is to refuse to give them the attention they're desperately craving.

"Let's go suffer in the dark caverns of the library before the urge to tear our hair out stops us from passing second year." Magnus quirks a sharp grin. "I refuse to let Ragnor get a higher score, this year. I need to better than him in at least  _one_  subject."

"Trying to beat a Ravenclaw at studying?" Alec shakes his head fondly. "I know we're told that everyone has compatibilities with all the houses, but that is a very Gryffindor-esque task."

"But the Slytherin in me, determined beyond all reason and sensibilites, is just stubborn enough to give it a go." Magnus drops a quick kiss on Alec's head, which feels both like the kind of sweet gesture Alec would do with Isabelle, and a little teasing. "And as my best friend, it is your duty to support me."

"Against my better judgement," Alec mutters beneath his breath.

He will. He knows that he will, because that's just who he is. He stands behind his friends, and siblings, regardless of how stupid he thinks their ideas might be, and afterwards, when it progresses the less than stellar way he expects it will, he gets to be all smug and  _I told you so_  which is a very satisfying feeling, and worth the stress he's put under along the way.

It really is no surprise how he gets himself in these situations. He has a hard time saying not to those he cares about.

 

* * *

 

Lydia has never been, a  _girly_  girl. Her mother, an already beautiful woman, often wears makeup and jewelry and always looks fantastic, but Lydia has never understood the hype or the joy in it.

It's a lot of time and fuss and worry for something that will only get wiped off after a couple of hours. Bracelets get caught in things, necklaces always feel too heavy on her chest, and complicated hairstyles always take too long and the strain on her scalp causes too much pain for very little gain.

It's much easier to sweep her hair into a ponytail and just be done with it.

And then she met Isabelle Lightwood.

Her perspective hasn't flipped on it's head, but she's a little more curious about it. Isabelle doesn't do anything ridiculous with her hair, and she doesn't wear makeup, but she always looks nice, and more than that, comfortable - and Lydia kind of yearns for that, for that ease and confidence with how she looks.

Which is why, when Isabelle drops onto the seat beside her at breakfast, and asks if she can do Lydia's hair for her - Lydia says yes.

The very rare times in the past that Isabelle has done something to her hair, Lydia has found herself pleasantly surprised at how much she enjoys it. Not just the end product, but the process itself. There's something soothing about turning her back and giving Isabelle the opportunity to do whatever she likes, something calming about the gentle strokes of fingers through her tangled hair, something friendly and unfamiliar about participating in an activity that is typically  _girly_  with someone who, despite being so new, is quickly becoming a person Lydia feels comfortable around.

"Your hair is very pretty," Isabelle states, gently undoing the quick bun Lydia had twisted her hair into on her way to the Great Hall. "It's like woven gold."

Lydia's heart does something funny in her chest. She's never thought of her hair as pretty before. It's just an identifying part of her, a hand-me-down from her mother that links their genes in a chain of heritage. No one has ever commented on her hair before, and she's never considered it as something pretty.

"And soft," Isabelle continues, apparently not noticing Lydia's slightly tense state. "I wish my hair was as soft as yours, it feels like an actual cloud."

She laughs, a delicate sound, and Lydia surprises herself by joining in. It feels nice. Isabelle parts her hair into particular sections, and Lydia attempts to relax a bit, to loose herself in the motions of participating in quite a soothing activity. Her mother would be surprised, hopefully in a good way, if she could see what Lydia is doing right now.

It's - there's no other way to describe it, than just  _nice._  Comfortable and, in a way, a little homely.

Isabelle announces the completion with a bright grin, scooting back slightly on the bench. Her eyes are alight with thinly veiled joy and it's contagious, seeping into the room and settling over the people inside it. Lydia hesitantly touches her head, feeling the bumps and ridges of the intricately woven braid. She doesn't need to see it, to know that Isabelle has done a beautiful job. As always.

"Thank you," Lydia smiles, and although it's not as big as Isabelle's, it feels bright. Happy.

"You're welcome," Isabelle shrugs. "I don't really have any sisters or anything to do it with," She casts a quick glance at Alec, sitting across the table between Jace and Magnus. "And neither of my brothers are willing to let me practice anything on them. I've always wanted a friend to do these kind of things with."

Lydia touches the end of the braid, idly. "I've never really wanted to do these kind of things," She admits. "But, I kind of like it."

Isabelle visibly brightens, with Lydia didn't think was possible. "Good," Her eyes squint, just slightly, face scrunching with her smile. "Maybe we can do it, again. If you'd like."

"I would," Lydia says, believing herself despite the near-impossibility of her words. "It's quite calming."

"It is," Isabelle explains. "Isn't it?" She shifts in the seat, and then Alec's eyes widen and his jaw falls open, and Lydia can only assume that Isabelle kicked at her brother's feet.

"Iz, what the-" Alec's cut off when Magnus clamps a hand over his mouth.

"Language," Magnus quips with a smirk.

Alec shoots him a half-hearted glare, and then returns his attention to his sister. "Can I help you with something, Isabelle?" He amends, a wry twist to his mouth.

"No." Isabelle states, her grin turning mischevious. "I just wanted to let you know that I love you." She pauses. Lydia offers Jace a shrug in response to his quizzical glance. "And that I've stolen Lydia from you because I really like her, and now she's my friend."

Alec frowns, clearly not expecting that. "Okay," He replies, though it comes off as more as a question. "I'm ... happy for you?"

"Good." Isabelle, apparently pleased with his response, plucks a grape from Jace's plate and pops it into her mouth, smile widening her cheeks.

Alec shakes his head, fondly, and returns to his conversation with Magnus, who's adorning a fairly teasing smirk.

_She's my friend_  echoes like the repeat of a spell in Lydia's mind. Friend. Lydia's never been that good at making friends, as most people think she's either haughtily quiet or too stuck-up to talk to others, which isn't the case at all, she just doesn't tend to feel all that comfortable around kids her age. She's always aware of the image she's projecting and what others might think of her, and she carries that opinion on her shoulders like an immovable weight.

For most kids, it seems, she's just hard to get along with. But the friends she's made in the past year, Isabelle now included on that list, don't seem to mind her bluntness, or odd quirks. They actually like her for it, and that's not something Lydia knows exactly how to deal with.

She's allowed to struggle with it, though, none of her friends are likely to criticise her for it and that in itself is such a mark of the good-natured friendships they've all built together.

Lydia can just, be herself. And it's okay.

 

* * *

 

"I don't know how you stand it."

Magnus looks up from the book in his hand, at Raphael's dry words. Not that the words, apparently, are directed to him.

Alec and himself had retired to the Slytherin common room, because by some odd twist of the universe, hopefully karma-induced, Sebastian was studying under Professor Garroway's firm supervision. By the time they made it to the dungeon wall, Magnus had lost the motivation to study, and refused to budge from that decision.

Walking in, Alec had shared an exasperated eye-roll with Raphael, already sitting in the corner of the room at a Wizard's Chess table, entirely at Magnus' expense. Which isn't fair, his new friend, and his best friend, both teaming up against him.

Then Raphael asked Alec if he'd like to play, and Alec, the traitor, had agreed. Leaving Magnus alone with a book Isabelle had lent him - her copy of  _The Tales of Beedle The Bard_ ; at her rather encouraged recommendation, he's currently reading The Warlock's Hairy Heart, a surprisingly dark 'fairytale' he's utterly fascinated by.

It only makes sense for Magnus to expect Raphael to be talking to him. Raphael and Alec hardly know each other. Or, so Magnus thought, back when life was good and made sense.

"How I stand what?" Alec asks, with that characteristic quirked eyebrow Magnus recognises far too well.

Raphael's mouth twists into an uncomfortable line. "That, puppy-eyed kid that follows you around everywhere? I don't really know his name."

Magnus holds his place in the book with his thumb. "Simon?" He guesses, considering the twist to Raphael's grimace. He's gotten to recognise certain quirks to Raphael's expressions, as they tend to explain more than any words he speaks. He's incredibly mature for his age - arguably more mature than a lot of the older kids.

"Simon's alright," Alec's shoulder lifts in a weak imitation of a shrug. "He can be, a lot, I'll admit, but once you get used to his quirks, he's a really nice guy."

Magnus thinks that Simon would be giddy if he heard Alec speaking so openly, and kindly, about him. Magnus himself isn't all that surprised. Alec may not be all that upfront about his feelings, but he has them, and when he cares about someone, it's deeply. Simon is his friend, and that means he's under the umbrella of protection that Alec holds above the heads of those he cares about.

Raphael mutters something quickly to the board. A castle piece, with a small fiesty figure on top, hops forward with an enthusiastic shout. A year ago, Magnus would be surprised at the eyeroll a lot of Alec's pieces commit to, but now he's a lot more familiar with wizarding games.

He'd be more surprised if there was no reaction.

"He talks quite a lot," Raphael points out. "You share a dorm with him, don't you"

Alec nods, clearly not quite understanding where the line of questioning is going. Magnus watches on with more rapt attention than he'd ever be able to summon for the chess game.

"I wouldn't have imagined you get much sleep." Raphael scrunches his nose in what appears to be distaste. "There's a kid in my dorm who doesn't stop chatting away until the sun rises. I don't even think he sleeps. It's neverending."

"Have you talked about this with him?" Alec asks. He instructs his knight, who neighs loudly and skips to the side. Magnus doesn't quite understand chess all that well, let alone Wizard's Chess, where the pieces are literally sentient.

Raphael frowns. "No. Why would I? That would be inviting conversation, which is the opposite of what I'm hoping for."

Alec laughs, a short huff that eases out almost without his notice. "I understand that." He rubs at his chin. "Believe me, Simon used to ramble on a lot about things I didn't get or really care about. So I told him that. And now he thinks before he starts to talk to me about something. That way I'm still involved in the conversation and neither of us are upset."

"Or bored." Magnus adds. "Remember that time he tried to tell you about that kid's show he claimed Clary should host ... Art Attack?"

A thin shudder races through Alec shoulders. "A whole day, he spent a whole day telling me about it. I'm still not sure I understand what it is."

Raphael's still frowning, but he appears to be considering Alec's advice. "And it helped? Talking to him about it?"

"A little, yeah." Alec smiles, gaze flicking down to the board and then back up to Raphael. "I don't know the guy who's annoying you, so I don't know how well it will work - but Simon is a good kid, and he hates it when people are upset, let alone when he's made them that way. He talks so much because he's too enthusiastic to keep it in, and sometimes it's just better to hear him out. Even if you don't get it."

"Sometimes you actually learn things." Magnus opens his book, thumb still holding his place. "It's possible this guy in your dorm is just lonely, or seeking attention. I know Simon loves having friends, and that's why he talks so much, sometimes about very little, because he just likes people."

"I don't," Raphael admits quietly. "There's too many things to consider and remember when it comes to interacting with people. If you say something wrong, then you upset them and anything you say just makes it worse. Too many rules."

Alec tilts his head, just slightly. "There can be. But if this guy annoys you as much as you say, it might be worth approaching the subject with him."

"I can go with you, if you'd like?" Magnus suggests. "If that would help you feel more comfortable."

"Maybe," Raphael shifts, and something in the air tightens. Alec's watching him, curious and a little sympathetic. It's a stark reminder, to Magnus and Alec both, that Raphael isn't quite as old as he likes to appear.

"Let's worry about finishing this game first," Alec suggests, kindly. "Your king is mine." His pieces all clatter and cheer excitedly in response, encouraging a roaring reaction from Raphael's side. It's a very loud game.

Raphael looks up with a daring glint in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Alec grins, sharply. "Care to find out?"

And just like that, the tension in the room melts away, and even Magnus finds it easier to breathe. Alec has that effect, he's discovered. On most, if not all people actually. He's considerate and careful with his words and the effect they can have - he understands what needs to be said in the moment, and in this situation especially, what Raphael needed to hear.

He didn't tell Raphael what to do. Just gave a light-hearted suggestion, that he could take or leave. Magnus hopes that Raphael will consider it, if only because it might work out for him better than ignoring the problem.

Whatever he chooses, it's his decision. Magnus will support him, but that's for a later time. For now, Magnus returns his attention to The Warlock's Hairy Heart; the warlock is currently overhearing two of his servants in quiet discussion about him, and Magnus is electrified and enrapt in what the warlock will do in response.

He might need to ask Isabelle about the difference between a warlock and a wizard, when he sees her next. It's a buzzing question he can't stop pondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to put it out there - out of all the chapters of second year so far, and there's a few, the next chapter is my absolute favourite. It's a pocket of good and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did when I first read it.
> 
> Until next time - be safe, and tell those you love, that you love them. It's always nice to hear ❤


	5. Oh How I Wish It Could Be Christmas (Everyday)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it snows, Magnus gets a surprise, and everyone gets presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy Christmas song reference in the chapter title? Check. Totally cheesy chapter? Check. General cheese-oozing fluffiness? Absolutely.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
Snow is falling outside when Magnus wakes on the first day of the Christmas holidays, covering the world outside in a thick, glistening blanket of white. Trees rise tall around the grounds, flakes of snow caught on their branches shimmering in the early morning sunlight, and the Black Lake is mostly frozen over.

Magnus takes a moment to sit in bed and stare out of the window, revelling in the unusual silence of the Slytherin dormitory. It hadn't really been a hard decision. When Professor McGonagall had come around the common rooms asking for names of people who wished to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, Raphael had jumped up immediately. And, frankly, if Magnus were able to live at Hogwarts full-time, he'd make the move tomorrow. It had only been the threat of two weeks being utterly on his own that had stopped him putting his name down, last year.

With Raphael staying, too, there didn't seem to be much reason to go back to April's children's home for a miserable Christmas.

He's the only person from the second year, to his knowledge, who's staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. There's every possibility that he'll have the desire to scream at Raphael, infuriating kid he is, by the end of the holidays, but for the first time he can remember, he's actually looking forward to Christmas.

After spending several minutes enjoying the warmth of his bed and the beautiful landscape outside, he hauls himself out into the frigid winter air, and pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweater, shivering as he does. He'd have thought that wizards, with all their magical powers, could think to instal some muggle central heating. Or the magical equivalent. Clearly, their reliance on candles and crackling fireplaces goes beyond aesthetic mood lighting.

Raphael is already in the common room when Magnus runs down. He's kneeling by a table, a frown etched into his features as he peers down at a chess board, scrutinising the players. Magnus can't see who he's playing with - they're facing away from him, blocked from sight by the tall back of the sofa - but he's always pleased to see Raphael making friends. He can't help feeling a little protective of the younger boy.

"Queen to B5," Raphael says, face clearing. The queen rises from her chair, lifts it from the chess board, and uses to to smash a pawn in half, pieces scattering across the board. Raphael smirks. "Your turn. Morning, Magnus."

"Morning, Raphael," Magnus says, unbothered by the violent game being played out. He's getting steadily more used to the strange intricacies of magical life. Chess pieces that appear to be able to make conscious decisions aren't the strangest things he's ever seen. "Breakfast?"

A messy head of dark hair peeks out from behind the sofa, and Magnus nearly jumps out of his skin when none other than Alec Lightwood says, cheekily, "Don't I get a good morning?"

" _Alec_!" Magnus absolutely does not shriek. "What are you doing here? You were going home! I said goodbye to you yesterday!"

Alec grins at him. "I heard Raphael saying you two were staying for Christmas, so I decided to, as well. I couldn't leave you two alone together for two weeks, could I? You'd burn the castle down."

Magnus ignores the slight against him, choosing not to dignify such an absolutely preposterous proposition with a response. "Don't your parents mind?"

"Honestly?" Alec directs a pawn to tear down Raphael's knight. "I don't care. Last Christmas was horrible, and they didn't make much of an effort to be more than civil all summer. Especially not when they found out I wasn't just going to Lydia's, but also seeing you. It's beyond ridiculous."

"What about your siblings?"

Alec shrugs. "Jace wants to spend Christmas at Clary's, anyway. Apparently Simon always goes over there, so Jace and Izzy are going this year, too. Clary's mom is happy to have them."

It almost makes Magnus feel sympathy for Maryse and Robert Lightwood, having to spend Christmas with only one of their four children. Almost. He can't quite bring himself to think kindly towards two people who have made his best friend so miserable on so many occasions.

"So you let me spend all night thinking I had to spend two weeks without you, and then you turn up to terrify me?" Magnus covers his heart with the flat of his hand and glares at Alec in mock outrage. "The betrayal!"

Alec snorts at him. "Yeah, Magnus, I've totally betrayed you."

Impatiently, Raphael drums his fingers against the table, drawing both Magnus and Alec's attention away from each other. He quirks an eyebrow at them, clearly entirely unimpressed by their exchange, and gestures to the board.

"Are we going to finish this game, Lightwood?"

Alec's eyes roam across the board. "I can checkmate you in four moves."

Raphael's other eyebrow hitches up to join the first. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Alec shoots him a grin. "Really."

"Well then." Raphael leans into Alec, bracing his elbows on the table, a wicked smile on his face as he says, "Game on."

***

"I'm just saying, if I pass Potions this year, I'm going to be astounded."

"And I'm just saying that you're being stupid," Magnus argues as they walk through the corridors towards the library three days into the holidays, for the soul purpose of lazing around somewhere that isn't the Slytherin common room. "Even if I didn't help you at all, ever, you'd pass."

Alec snorts. "Right. Because I'm just so in tune with the nuances of sticking things in a cauldron."

"It's more difficult than that," Magnus says with a scowl in his direction, "and you know it. Don't be so determined to suck!"

Alec rolls his eyes as they turn the corner. "I'm not determined to suck, I just do suck at Potions. I can't be good at everything."

"No," says a voice from behind them, "but Mr Bane is right, Mr Lightwood."

Alec and Magnus both spin around in perfect synchronisation. Alec feels his cheeks flush a deep, dark red when he meets Professor Garroway's eyes, and he shifts uncomfortably in place. Would it be asking too much to wish for some invisible magical force to make the ground swallow him whole?

"When I was your age," Professor Garroway says, eyes twinkling, "I was terrible at Potions. Much worse than anybody in your year. Ask your mother. I'm sure she'll remember."

Alec starts at that, because he hadn't realised that his mother had been at school with Professor Garroway. Although, now he's said it, it makes sense, given their ages. It would also explain his implied dislike of Sebastian's father, because Alec is certain that his parents were both in the same year as him.

"It'll come to you," Professor Garroway assures him, with a warm smile. "Just don't give up. Now, off you go, both of you!"

"Yes, sir," they say,and turn to continue their walk to the library.

Alec can't quite work out why everybody else seems to have so much more faith in him than he has in himself.

***

Technically, it's very, very much against every school rule ever created around the topic to spend the night in the wrong dormitory. It is also, however, Christmas, with many of the teachers having returned home for the holidays, and the dormitories feel distinctly empty.

So when Alec wakes on Christmas morning, it's not to the familiar yellow and black hues of the Hufflepuff boy's dormitories, but to the emerald and silver vista of the Slytherin equivalent, having stolen a bed for the night.

Magnus is already awake, sitting at the end of his bed and positively quivering with excitement despite the cold. The sight makes Alec smile through the yawn that assaults him the moment he hauls his eyes open. They'd gone to bed far too late last night, all three of them, talking until the small hours of the morning and then giggling well beyond.

Raphael, at least, seems to be immune to the light beginning to pour in, and is still snoring softly in a bed on the other side of Magnus, duvet pulled up to his eyes, just a shock of fluffy dark hair visible as a testament to the fact that he is, actually, still in bed, and hasn't just strategically placed pillows beneath the sheets.

"Morning," Alec says, dragging a hand through his hair and scrubbing at his eyes. "You're way too energetic."

"Merry Christmas!"

The words seem to burst out of Magnus like he can't contain them for another moment. A smile stretches so broadly across his face it looks like it's going to split it in two, and he's shifting and jigging restlessly where he's sitting cross-legged facing Alec.

Although he's a little taken aback by the intensity of Magnus' joy, Alec can't help but return his smile. "Merry Christmas, Magnus."

From the other bed, Raphael makes a grumbling sound, and pulls his duvet tighter around him. Alec has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing.

"Presents?" he suggests, motioning vaguely towards the door towards the common room, where he knows anything addressed to students still staying at Hogwarts will have been brought up by the house elves at some point during the night.

Something in Magnus' face seems to shutter at that, smile dropping away, and Alec wonders, as he so often does, what on earth is going on in his friend's head.

"Yeah, okay," Magnus says, offering him a smile that's significantly smaller. "You go. I'll wake up this lump–" He jerks a thumb at Raphael "–and then come down."

Alec agrees, pulling on a jumper over his pyjamas before he makes his way out of the warm confines of his bed and down the cold stone steps into the Slytherin common room.

He's horribly unsurprised when he sees a stack of presents with his name poking out of the top, written on a card stacked between two small boxes. The house elves seem to know everything that goes on at Hogwarts. It's not really a stretch that they knew where he'd settled down to sleep for the night.

He pulls his presents out from underneath the Christmas tree that's been erected in the corner by the fireplace, and begins to rip open the cards, grinning at some of the messages from his friends. Lily's card makes him snicker ( _next year, Lightwood, I'm dragging you and the rest of you crazy city-lovers to the countryside for Christmas_ ) and he's fairly sure that Clary has draw the snowy village on the front of her card herself.

The card from his parents is unemotional, as always, wishing him a happy Christmas and good luck in his studies, but nothing more. Isabelle and Jace have sent him a card with a picture of themselves and Max slipped inside, and he can't help the sense of melancholy that fills him at the sight. Because he misses his siblings, on Christmas Day, but at the same time—

"Oh my _god_."

Alec raises his eyebrows as he turns in his spot on the fluffy green rug on the floor by the fireplace. Magnus is standing stock still at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the piles of presents underneath the tree with wide eyes.

"Those are yours," Alec says, pointing, "and those are Raphael's. And those are for those two terrifying fifth years, so I guess don't touch those."

"Those are all mine?" Magnus asks, coming closer slowly, peering down with wide eyes. "Who on earth are they from?"

"I don't know," Alec says, slightly amused but more saddened, because he hadn't realised - or, truthfully, hadn't even considered - that Magnus didn't get much at Christmas. "Open them."

Magnus drops onto the rug beside Alec, reaching for the pile of cards, first. For a moment, Alec watches, remembering last Christmas, when he and Magnus had barely more than hated each other, and he'd given Magnus that stupid card with a niffler on the front.

Raphael stumbles down into the common room a few minutes later, just as he and Magnus have opened each other's cards and are moving onto the presents awaiting them. He thumps down onto the rug, dressing gown pulled tight around him, and reaches immediately for the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that Alec just unwrapped and offered to Magnus.

"Presents," Magnus says, pushing Raphael's pile over to him. "Have at it, Santiago."

Raphael makes a low, sleeping grunting noise in the back of his throat, and Alec has to try very hard not to laugh.

"You're going to be awful with a hangover," Magnus comments, as he tears the wrapping paper off the gift that Alec bought him with one hand, reaching for a sweet with the other. Alec pauses in his own unwrapping to watch, nerves fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

Magnus slows in his movements as the edge of Alec's present is revealed, and peels back the paper gingerly, a pensive look on his face as he peers at the contents. His eyes widen, and he fumbles to recheck the tag stuck on the wrapping paper proclaiming the gift to be from Alec.

"Alec," Magnus says, wonder clear in his voice as he runs his fingers along the material lightly, as though afraid to touch. "This is– It's beautiful."

Alec feels blood rush up his neck to stain his cheeks red, and he averts his gaze so he doesn't embarrass himself more. "Izzy helped," he confesses. "I didn't know what to buy you, but I remembered seeing that in Diagon Alley in the summer, and—"

Magnus smiles as he lifts his eyes up to look at Alec, and Alec is powerless to look anywhere but those piercing eyes. "Thank you, Alexander. Really."

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Dios, Magnus, stop making eyes and put it on."

Because he's incredibly mature, Magnus sticks his tongue out at Raphael and makes a rude gesture by lifting two fingers. Alec snorts.

Magnus picks up the scarf, and winds it around his neck. Alec had noticed it in Madam Malkin's when he'd been to Diagon Alley with his parents and siblings to buy his schoolbooks and stock up on supplies. It's a sharp emerald green, interwoven with shimmering strands of silver, and it had struck Alec as the kind of thing Magnus would like. That, and it's made in his house colours.

Magnus strikes a melodramatic pose, flinging his head back and spreading his arms, and quirks an eyebrow at Alec. "How do I look?"

Alec laughs. "Ridiculous," he says. "You're wearing your pyjamas."

"Insolence!" Magnus says, with a mock gasp. "Betrayal! I'll just have to confiscate my present to you—"

"Magnus!"

But Magnus is quicker, snatching up a box and darting across the room. He jumps up on a window ledge, holding the box up high where Alec can't reach it.

"You're such an arse!" Alec says, but he's grinning as he gains a few inches in height by climbing up on one of the intricate stone carvings. They're probably not designed for twelve-year-old boys to climb on, but it's too convenient to pass up the opportunity.

"I'm not giving it back unless you tell me I don't look ridiculous!" Magnus says, leaning away from Alec as he gets nearer.

"Never!"

Alec jumps, leaping at Magnus, and they topple to the ground in a tangle of limbs, both giggling and wildly out of breath. For several moments, they lay half on top of each other, laughter bubbling up their throats but too out of breath to make any effort to get up.

"You two are insane," Raphael proclaims from the rug. "I don't know why I'm friends with you."

Magnus looks over from where his head is resting in dangerous proximity to Alec's elbow, and grins wickedly. "Aw, Raph, that the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Don't call me that."

Alec takes the opportunity to pluck his present back out of Magnus' hand, and grins when Magnus glares at him.

Alec pulls out a stack of two books, one of which appears to be on the history of Quidditch, and the other of which is titled _Why Quidditch Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be (and Why You Should Play It Anyway)_ with the name _Ginny Potter_ scrawled across the bottom.

The last item in the box is a Quidditch miniature of a two tiny players in yellow and black robes flying around a pitch, tossing a deep red Quaffle back and forth. Alec smiles as the figures fly around, and then looks up at Magnus, who's watching him nervously, chewing at his lower lip.

"I know it's not very exciting," Magnus says, with a small, sheepish little shrug, "but obviously I don't really have much money, other than what the school loans me every year and what little I've got saved up, and—"

Alec sets down the objects in his hands, lifts himself onto his feet, and wraps Magnus up in a tight, warm hug. For a moment, Magnus is still, clearly a little taken aback. Then, slowly, he shifts to wind his arms around Alec's torso, and rests his chin on Alec's shoulder.

"I love it," Alec tells him, honestly, and squeezes him gently. "Thank you, Magnus."

Magnus smiles as he pulls back. "You're welcome, Alexander."

"You two are so weird," Raphael says. "Really. _So_ weird."

***

Later that day, after a delicious Christmas lunch that leaves them all groaning at how much they've eaten, they make their way outside to toss snowballs at each other.

"This is so unfair!" Magnus shouts as Alec bombards him with snow, laughing at Magnus' protests. "You play Quidditch! You're a chaser!"

"Come on, Bane," Alec says, grinning at him. "Fight me."

Magnus is about to bark out a sharp retort, when he sees Raphael climbing up a tree, several snowballs clutches in his hands. As Alec bends down to scoop up more snow, Raphael fires them down onto his back, making Alec leap up in surprise.

Alec's eyes narrow when he spies Raphael crouching low on a branch overhead. "Oh, you're in for it, Santiago."

Raphael smirks. "Two against one, Lightwood."

Just to prove Raphael's point, Magnus packs up a snowball and tosses it towards Alec; it lands between his shoulder blades, smacking against his coat and leaving a splattering of white against the charcoal grey material.

Alec whirls round, and shakes his head, mirth shining in his eyes. "Game on," Alec says. "Game on."

***

There aren't New Year's Eve fireworks at Hogwarts.

Alec tells Magnus that it's not really something the magical community does, mostly for fear of attracting the attention of muggles by letting off magical fireworks that disobey all laws of physics. Although, he knows, since the opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop in Diagon Alley, fireworks have become a more common magical investment.

Instead, the three of them lay sprawled out on the floor of the Slytherin boys' dormitory. Raphael is insistent that the second-year dorm is bigger than the first-year dorm—Magnus tells him he's imagining things, and Alec can't help but grin at their exchanges. He doesn't really understand Magnus and Raphael's friendship, but he supposes that Jace always says the same thing about him and Magnus.

They drag the duvets and sheets and pillows off the beds, and they erect a blanket fort in the middle of the room, spread between the ends of all the beds. They use Sebastian's bedsheets and duvet as a groundsheet, because, according to Magnus, he deserves the filth.

It's horribly reminiscent of the things Alec used to build with his siblings, before he and Jace left for Hogwarts last year. He can't help but miss them, in that moment. But Christmas with Magnus and Raphael for company, without the sharp tongues and hurtful comments of his parents, has been unimaginably wonderful.

" _Lumos_ ," Magnus says, lighting up his wand tip as it becomes too dark for them to see beneath the blankets, even with the curtains wide open to allow moonlight to spill in through the windows set in the wall.

Alec supposes that, once upon a time, the Slytherin dormitories were always dark. Back in his parents' days, they'd told him, the Slytherin dorms were straight off the common room beneath the lake, rather than up a floor.

"What do we do now?" Magnus asks, voice hushed, as he glances at Alec, whose idea this whole thing had been. "Do we just..." He gestures to the watch - Alec's - they've set out on a shelf made of throw pillows. "Wait for midnight?"

Alec's lips curl up. "Yes. And we talk. And tell secrets. And gossip. That's what I always used to do with my siblings."

Magnus bends his legs up and hugs his knees, chin resting atop them with his wand held loosely in one hand as he regards Alec. "Did you and your siblings not go to school before you came to Hogwarts?"

Alec shakes his head, and Raphael snorts quietly, muttering, "Purebloods."

"No," Alec says. "We had a tutor - Hodge - who taught us basic things. A bit of magical history, how be semi-functioning humans, maths, how to read and write, that kind of thing. We used to make him tell us about politics and things our parents tried to hide from us a lot, too."

Raphael raises one eyebrow. "Nothing muggle-related? At all? Not even books?"

"My parents didn't want him to teach us anything like that. They're a bit...elitist. He did encourage our parents to buy a TV when I turned ten, and he took us to the muggle library sometimes, but other than that, no."

Magnus shakes his head, lips twitching up in amusement. "You should definitely take muggle-studies next year. You deprived child. Even I'd watched TV before I was ten."

Alec elbows him lightly, laughing. "I know, I know. I can't help my parents."

An odd look crosses Magnus' face, smile falling a little, and his grip on his wand tightens. "No," he says, quietly. "No, you can't. You're right."

Rather than question him about it, or bring the sudden shift in Magnus' demeanour up, Alec slips an arm around his shoulders and lets Magnus rest his head on his shoulder; he turns his attention to Raphael, instead.

"You've never told us about your family," Alec says, and then corrects himself. "Well, you've never told me, at least."

"He hasn't told me either," Magnus says, from where he's snuggled into Alec's side, pyjama top rucking up slightly due to the angle. "He's full of mysteries."

Raphael shrugs, picking at a loose bit of thread in the sheet nearest to him, and make a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. "I've got one muggle and one magical parent, and I'm the only magical child. My family aren't very exciting."

"Why did you want to stay here, for Christmas?" Magnus asks, softly. "Tough times at home?"

"Something like that," Raphael says, but it's clear that he doesn't really want to talk about it. "Lily said I could spend it here, if I wanted to, which I didn't know. So I did."

They're quiet for a moment. Raphael moves so his toes are tucked beneath Magnus' legs, and Magnus rolls his eyes up, but smiles nevertheless. Alec takes Magnus' wand from him and sets it beside his watch, so their blanket fort is better lit, and then lights his own, too.

"Your turn, Magnus," Raphael says, breaking the - not uncomfortable - silence. "Alec exposed himself as a snooty pureblood, I got interrogated about my family, tell us something."

Magnus hums low in his throat, shifting slightly against Alec's side. He's taller than Alec, by at least an inch - probably too, Alec thinks - but he's managed to fold himself into something tiny with ease. The thought makes Alec's heart ache.

"You know I was born in Indonesia, right?" Magnus asks, and both Alec and Raphael nod. "I don't really remember much, because my mum moved us to England when I was about two, but I know we had a field, and there was a corner filled with flowers. And I remember sitting there, with my mother, and I remember the sun on my face, and the sky was cloudless, and there was nothing in the world but that. It's just a snapshot of a memory, like a photograph in my mind, but I remember how warm it was and how soft the grasses were. That's one of the things I like least about England. The cold."

The words hang heavy in the air, meaningful beyond the tidbits Alec and Raphael had shared. Alec doesn't quite know what to say, and, not for the first time, he wishes he had Magnus' way with words. This is a life Magnus lost, a life he'll never be able to have back, a life that was ripped away from him. Alec doesn't know how Magnus' parents died, or why he and his mother moved to London, but he knows it's not a happy story.

Rather than speak, Alec tilts his chin to kiss Magnus' hair, like he would Jace or Max or Izzy, and Magnus smiles up at him, eyes glossy but tears unshed.

"It's midnight," Raphael says, softly, and Magnus and Alec both glance over to the watch sitting across from the three of them. "Happy New Year."

Magnus and Alec echo the sentiment back, and somehow, within moments, they find themselves throwing pillows at each other, laughter bubbling up their throats until they collapse in a giggling pile, and fall asleep wrapped in the warmth of friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do I hate most about England? The cold. Am I self-projecting with Magnus' complaining about it in this series? Yes.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Have a fabulous week <3


	6. The Sun Will Come Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween - for those who celebrate it.
> 
>  
> 
> this chapter was heavily influenced by a conversations I had with Lu, and is therefore dedicated to her.
> 
> thank you, darling - for this, and everything else x

 

Magnus doesn't get much sleep the night before the new term is to begin.

It's his fault, entirely. He'd allowed himself a distraction within his own thoughts, pondering back over the previous two weeks, and the surrounding, encompassing joy that had covered the break.

He's never had so much fun before, not like that. Spending time with Alec, and Raphael, though the latter less so, had been effortless and easy and he'd never had the chance to second-guess a single moment. They didn't quite have the entire school to themselves, but it had sure felt like it.

It was freeing and boundless and as the light, and heavy, snores of others fill the dormitory room, a small part of Magnus aches for it. He'd experienced a side of Hogwarts that he'd never had the chance to before, and the idea that he'll have to share again, is a little disappointing.

It's childish. He knows that, and it's what he tries to remind himself, even as his thoughts run rampant and sleep evades with a taunting giggle.

He's enjoyed these past two weeks so much, more than he'd expected - probably because he hadn't expected Alec to stay behind on Christmas break. It's still something he hasn't quite overcome yet.

Alec stayed behind, away from his family - who Magnus knows he loves dearly - to spend time with Magnus. Magnus has never had a friend care so deeply, as Alec does - to be fair, before Hogwarts, he never really had friends, but none of the friends he has now quite compare to Alec either.

Someone in the bed beside him snorts, a sudden noise that disturbs the cycle of thoughts Magnus had settled into.

Magnus rolls over, huffing, and bunches the pillow beneath his head. He hates that sleep seems to evade him most when he needs it. It's not that he can't perform on little sleep, he can, if he absolutely has to, but he doesn't want to.

He just wants to sleep. He doesn't want to think about classes, or other students, or navigating the halls, or slimeball Sebastian - he just wants it all to stop so he can sleep.

Magnus kicks at the covers, dislodging the top blanket onto the floor, and sighs exasperatedly. Maybe if he focuses on the good things.

His friends are back. All of his friends, all the people he's used to seeing, will be down in the Great Hall when he wakes up - providing he ever gets to sleep - and he'll be surrounded, again, by people who care.

The notion itself sends a warmth blooming out from the center of his chest. He reaches over, straggling blindly until his hand lands on the drawer of the bedside table. Mindful of making too much noise, he pulls it open slowly, drawing out the emerald scarf Alec had gotten him for Christmas.

It's such a thoughtful gift. Such an  _Alec_ gift, as odd as that sounds.

Magnus slides his draw shut, and clutches the scarf in his hands. It's soft to the touch, and for some odd reason, smells like cinammon - but it fills him with a sense of safety and warmth and all the good things he feels when Alec is around.

He recalls, slowly, the words written on the card accompanying his gift. It was a plainer card, compared to the one Alec gave last year - no animal this time. Just a giant, red bauble, over which Alec had written Magnus' name, so that it looked like the bauble itself had Magnus' name on it. Like the bauble was Magnus'.

Surprisingly, not as sweet as the words inside.

 

_I wish we hadn't started last year hating each other, but I'm really, really glad we're friends now. Best friends. I think past us would be cringing at the thought, but I wouldn't swap your friendship for anything, not even a spot on a professional Quidditch team. Well..._

_No. I wouldn't._

_Merry Christmas, Magnus._

 

He'd scribbled a quick, almost lazy little heart next to Magnus' name, like an afterthought.

It's the last thing that Magnus considers, the notion of a scribbled heart, before he finally drifts off.

 

* * *

 

"When did the two of them become friends?"

Alec looks up from the letter in front of him, a slip of parchment from Julian outlining possible training days, tips for general practice - he'd dropped it by himself, earlier in the day, before spending a good few minutes talking to Alec about his Christmas break.

It was kind of surreal.

Magnus would claim that the scene before them is far more so. Raphael, sat at a table in the far corner of the library, head ducked in close conversation with Ragnor over a textbook.

"Are they friends, or is Ragnor just helping him?" Alec asks, trying to keep any ounce of humour out of his voice at Magnus' scrunched-up nose. "I know that Ragnor grumbles a bit, but he's never refused someone who asked for help."

Magnus is about to respond, likely with something dramatic, but he's cut off by the slight trickle of laughter that echoes from the corner. Magnus gives up his idea of fleeting glances, choosing instead to glare stonily at Ragnor's back.

"This is ridiculous," Magnus mutters to himself.

Alec rolls his eyes, and returns his gaze to the letter. "You're  _being_  ridiculous," He claims, thumb pressed over the signature at the bottom of the letter. It's small and hasty and barely legible, but still strikes Alec as something quite personal. Julian is a very nice guy, but this is a level further than Alec could have ever expected.

"Do you know how long it took me to get Raphael to even  _talk_  to me without prompt?" Magnus turns sharply. "All of a sudden they're just friends? Just like that?"

Alec knows that Magnus' isn't entirely upset, just a bit miffed, so he doesn't mind letting a tiny smile grow. "Are you jealous?" He asks, brushing the end of his quill over the back of Magnus' hand.

Magnus fights against a grin. Alec thinks it's a fair retaliation, as during the Christmas break Magnus had started an assault on his ticklish ribs and Alec hadn't been able to one-up the attack. Besides, poking Magnus with his quill is likely to be more effective than nudging his foot beneath the table.

This is far more irritating.

"I'm not  _jealous_ ," Magnus refutes, shuffling in his seat. "Just confused."

"Oh," Alec scoffs. "Of course."

Magnus glares at him from across the table, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. "I'm not jealous, Alexander. I am annoyed, because I've spent the past few months trying to help Raphael integrate into the school, and then that happens."

"So you're annoyed that Raphael has other friends?" Alec frowns, puzzled. "And you're  _not_  his only friend?"

Magnus shakes his head, slowly. "It's just - okay. I know what it's like to be in his shoes, to be the only one with magic, to enter a brand new, scary place where everyone appears to know what they're doing and you're still working on the fact that magic is even real in the first place."

Alec's shoulders slump, his chest clenching painfully. Magnus swirls a whispy pattern with the end of his wand, not so much a spell, as the illusion of one.

Magnus sighs. "I know that my situation differs from Raphael's, he lives with his parents, and has a magical one who can probably teach him what he needs to know, but there's a sense of, of loss that comes with not being on the same level as everyone else, and I guess, you know, I had that in common with him."

"You haven't lost him." Alec points out, softly. "He's just, got another friend now. Maybe. I don't actually know what Ragnor constitutes as a friend."

At this, Magnus laughs, short and a little sweet, and it calms Alec down more than he anticipated. He hates it when Magnus is sad, or down, or in any way unhappy. He's too bright of a person to have his energies wasted on being anything else.

"I guess you have a point," Magnus admits, reluctant and teasing, his mouth tugged up in the corner. "I have to share you with Jace, after all."

Alec rolls his eyes, in much the way he would  _around_  Jace. "You're both pains." He admits. "I don't know why I put up with either of you."

"Well," Magnus rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table. "Jace is, for all intents and purposes, your brother. You don't really have much choice, with him."

"True," Alec shrugs, in a  _what-can-you-do_  kind of way. "I don't have a choice with you, either, though. To be fair."

Magnus quirks a hesitant eyebrow. "We're not related."

Alec grins. "No. But, I'd rather have you around, than not, so that provides me with little choice. You're my best friend, I'm essentially stuck with you. In a good way, obviously."

Magnus scoffs, lightly. He glances at Alec slowly, smiling kindly, and a little sleepily. "You're my best friend, too." He adds. "Obviously."

"Obviously?" Alec echoes, his grin widening. He always feels better when he can make others smile, and even regardless of that, Magnus' smile is simply contagious.

"Obviously." Magnus confirms.

Alec likes the sound of that.

 

* * *

 

There's a package on his bed.

Magnus eyes it, warily, uwinding the scarf from around his neck. It's a brown box, nothing all that out of the ordinary, context removed. The weird part is that it's on  _his_  bed. He never gets packages, in general, and it's not like there's a special occasion or anything requiring a gift.

There's nothing special about the day.

Magnus steps closer, slowly, dropping his scarf onto the end of his bed. There's nothing identifiable, no note or even a postage stamp. Nothing to say who it is from. If it wasn't placed on his bed, he'd doubt it was his. But mistakes like this are rarely made at Hogwarts, that much he's learnt already, and by the time he's perched on the edge of his bed, his curiosity has been piqued enough to warrant at least opening the box.

Magnus, naturally, shakes the box before he opens it, but nothing rattles. He turns the box over, looking for the end of the tape, because he isn't Alec and using a severing charm could lead to him, losing a few fingers or something.

The box, at first, doesn't reveal anything - but another box. Same mundane style, but considerably smaller. Magnus discards the first box, more than just a little peeved. It feels a lot less like a gift now and more like a prank, and he's starting to question if it's even worth opening.

Magnus is, however, nothing if not stubborn. Even if it's a prank, no one will be able to say that he wasn't brave enough to chance it.

Fortunately for him, it's not. Magnus lets out a sigh of relief when nothing explodes in his face, and then peers into the box, still wondering who it might be from. Inside the box rests a small, wooden charm in the style of a white flower with delicately curved petals. The detail is intricate and beautiful, clearly hand-carved and made with an immense amount of care. Magnus strokes his fingers around the edges, grazing over the petals - there's something nagging at the back of his mind. He's seen this flower before.

It comes to him like scripture of a spell, though with a lot more heartache.

 _Melati putih._ The national flower of Indonesia - or rather, one of three.

Magnus knows of muscle memory and the idea that memories can carry into senses, because one of the first things he smelt when he returned to Hogwarts was magic, something like burnt sugar underlying the crackle of energy in the air, and while the orphanage had always been a quiet place buzzing with restrained anger, when he thinks of it now, he'd almost confirm the air as tinted with the scent of freshly baked biscuits.

He stares at the token in his hand, at the bright white petals, and smells jasmine in the air, his mother's soft laughter echoing in the far spaces of his mind.

_His mother pulls a wooden flower from inside her pocket, the petals as white as snow, and tucks it into his palm. She smiles with her eyes, twinkling like stars._

_"When it gets too cold," She says to him, kindly - he'd complained about having to stay inside because the sun has disappeared from the sky, and it made him sad. "Hold onto this, and think of spring."_

_"What if we don't get spring?" Magnus asks, tugging at his mother's skirt. "What if the sun stays away forever?"_

_His mother's smile dims. Magnus thinks she must be as sad as he is, about the sun leaving them behind._

_"The sun will come back." She promises. "Nothing is forever, and that includes loss. Just because the sun isn't here now, doesn't mean it won't come back. You just have to be patient, sayang."_

 

Magnus' eyes prick with burdening tears, and the flower in his hand burns a mark on his palm. He doesn't have a lot of memories of his mother, but it's the more painful, reminiscent ones that flash at the hardest of times, catching him off guard and leaving him a mess.

He has no idea who this gift is from. If it's supposed to be a cruel joke, or something - if it is, it's certainly not funny.

It's heartbreaking.

 

* * *

 

 

Alec is one of the first down to the Great Hall, so he snags a fair space of bench at the Hufflepuff table, waving at Simon to cover the other side. He hasn't seen Magnus since Potions, but that's not all that out of the ordinary - he'd had practice with Julian, and Magnus had mentioned something about making his bed, because he'd forgotten to earlier and he's very pinicky about it.

During the summer, when they'd been at Lydia's, Alec had tried to make the bed himself, but Magnus had taken over, hands fluttering, rambling on about how it has to be perfect, how this corner has to be turned down this way, and this pillow has to sit that way.

At the time Alec had just thought it was because they were staying at somebody else's house, but no, it's just a quirk of Magnus'. One of many that make up his enigmatic best friend.

A low rumble of snickering echoes across from the Slytherin table, and at first, Alec doesn't pay it much attention. There's always laughing or yelling or joking somewhere, it's commonplace to hear a shout or shriek.

It's the way Jace collapses, breathless, next to Simon, and Simon's weak attempt at trying to hide a grin behind his palm, that sets off tiny alarms inside of Alec. He narrows his eyes, as Jace nudges Simon with his elbow, the two of them snickering under their breath.

The last time Simon and Jace had giggled this much, Sebastian had almost choked on his own tongue. Alec is sure that he doesn't want to know, but if he doesn't ask, he will regret it.

"What did the two of you do,  _now_?" He asks, exasperated.

Both of them look at him with matching masks of innocence. It's a little eerie.

"Nothing." They echo. Okay, more than a little eerie.

There's another shout, a cackle, and it's then that Jace and Simon's composure breaks. Jace practically doubles over, hand wrapped around his torso, head bent next to Simon's. Alec glares, because  _really,_  but Jace can't see it, and Simon has his eyes scrunched up, streaks of tears sliding down his cheeks, air coming out in wheezes.

Alec looks up just as Sebastian comes thundering up to the table, and struggles to hold back a snort himself. Sebastian's entire face has been painted green, hair sticking up like he's been at the bad end of an exploded potion.

Which, is possible...

Sebastian whirls on Jace automatically, eyes dark and thundering. Jace straightens up, hand still on his chest, sporting a trademark cheeky, Gryffindor grin. He tilts his head, lips pursed together.

"Oh, Sebastian." Jace doesn't even attempt to hide the shining glee from his tone. "You're looking quite green, are you feeling well? Do you need me to take you down to Madame Pomfrey?"

Sebastian glowers, dark like a cloud passing over the sun. "You did this. You toads did this to me, and you're going to fix it, or I'm going to tell Headmistress what you've done."

Simon raises his hands placatingly. "We haven't done anything. We're just sitting here, with our friend-" He waves to Alec, who shrinks in his spot. He hates attention like this, and besides, he  _genuinely_  hadn't done anything. "Trying to enjoy our dinner."

Sebastian bristles, barely offering a glance to Alec. "You'll pay for this." His hand strays, slowly, to his pocket. "All of you. It's bad enough that you associate with the dregs of the school..."

"Mr Morgenstern."

Alec has never been more relieved to hear Professor Garroway's voice. He towers over Sebastian, arms folded over his chest. "I hope you're not threatening other students."

Sebastian glares, and refuses to turn around. "No, sir." He bites through gritted teeth.

"You weren't about to use that wand on Mr Lewis, or Mr Lightwood, were you?" Professor Garroway continues, the tiniest thread of humour lacing his tone.

"No, sir." Sebastian's jaw pulses.

"Because that would be a breach of conduct, and would certainly leave you in detention for a week, at the very least." Professor Garroway claps a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. He bristles, but doesn't pull away.

"Move along please, Mr Morgenstern. I suggest, to the bathroom, to wash that off your face. It is not part of the uniform, despite the colours of your house."

Sebastian shoots a heated glare at Jace, and then stalks off, face so tense that Alec is surprised there isn't steam shooting out of his ears. Jace waves Sebastian off, Simon poking him with his elbow, though he can't restrain the broken giggles that slip out.

Professor Garroway watches it all with an amusement that Alec is sure isn't quite appropriate. Then again, it's at Sebastian's expense, and Alec isn't exactly concerned with Sebastian's feelings.

Not after all the crap he'd put Magnus through.

Which, reminds him - he still hasn't seen Magnus yet. Odd.

"Now, I have to ask, boys." Professor Garroway raises a dark eyebrow at Jace, specifically. "Did you plant that on Sebastian?"

"No, sir." Simon shakes his head, exuberant. "Neither Jace, nor I, planted that smoke-" Simon jolts, suddenly - Jace probably stepped on his foot - turning to glare sharply at Jace, before returning his gaze to Professor Garroway. "No, sir. We didn't."

Jace offers a winning smile. Alec rolls his eyes, because Jace's attempt to squeeze out of trouble is ridiculous, and infuriating for the fact that it almost always works. Professor Garroway stares between them for a beat, before his mouth tugs in the hint of a smile.

"Green isn't very ambiguous, is it?" Professor Garroway ...  _smirks._  "Maybe, choose a vaguer colour next time. Purple, perhaps. And try to do it somewhere other than in the Great Hall where you can get caught out. The other professors probably wouldn't be as generous in turning a blind eye."

Simon's cheeks are bright and pink, and Jace is staring at Professor Garroway like he's waiting for the shoe to drop. But it doesn't.

"Alec," Professor Garroway turns, eyes kind. Alec's heart leaps into his throat, and he jerks a nod. "Good job in class, today. I was very impressed."

"T-thank you, sir." Alec smiles, weakly.

Professor Garroway glances at them all, in turn, and then walks off, towards the other end of the Great Hall. Simon and Jace watch him go, and then turn and just stare at each other in shock. Alec lets the buzz of knowing he's actually doing okay in Potions wash over him, as Simon and Jace poke and rib each other with matching grins.

He'd done a good job. Alec hadn't hated the lesson, nothing had blown up, but he'd put that down to Magnus' help. Apparently, he'd done well enough by himself.

Simon glances behind Alec, his smile a little damper. "Hey," He turns to Alec. "Is Magnus okay?"

Alec frowns, and follows Simon's gaze. Magnus is trudging into the hall, shoulders slumped, his robe wrapped around himself tightly. He doesn't look sad, necessarily, just a bit down.

Alec scoots over as Magnus gets closer, offering a gentle smile. "Hi."

Magnus blinks, dazed, like he'd been stuck inside his own head and hadn't seen Alec sitting there. "Uh, hey."

He smiles, hesitantly, at Simon and Jace, who seem to have the grace of mind to keep their thoughts to themselves. Alec watches in pensive silence, noting the red rim to Magnus' eyes, the gradual pink of his cheeks, the way he keeps nipping nervously at his bottom lip.

"Mags?" Alec leans over, until Magnus is the only one who can hear him. Magnus glances at him, with half-lidded eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Magnus nods, swallowing thickly. "Yeah, of course." He huffs out a laugh that isn't very strong in it's nature. "Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

Alec decides that it's not fair to call Magnus out for lying, because something is very clearly actually wrong, and he needs to be supportive, not mean. Magnus wouldn't be lying to him if he didn't think it was necessary.

It's Alec's job to explain why it isn't.

"You know, if there was something wrong." Alec presses his shoulder to Magnus'. "You could tell me. I'm pretty good at problem solving."

Magnus' smile is a little more genuine this time. "It's a perk of being a big brother, I'd presume. Having to look out for those you care about."

Alec hums in consideration. Magnus does have a fair point. He's always looking out for those he cares about, it's almost second nature. Magnus falls under that, and Magnus isn't okay at the moment, despite his adamant determination that he is, and Alec knows that, because he knows Magnus.

"You know another perk?" Alec asks.

Magnus shakes his head, his curiosity seemingly piqued. If they were somewhere else, the library, or a common room, Alec would bring Magnus into a hug, and tell him that he's there for him - but they're not, they're around other students, and Magnus probably wouldn't appreciate the attention when he's feeling so down.

"I'm a good listener," Alec explains, aware of the apprehension creasing the corners of Magnus' mouth. "I think it's because I'm often quiet and observing, so I tend to pick up on things. If, you know, if there ever was something wrong - you could tell me."

Magnus blinks, eyes shining. Alec feels a twist inside of his chest - this wasn't meant to happen, he hadn't meant to make Magnus any more upset, or to cry, that's the last thing he wanted.

Magnus shuffles closer, until his head is resting on Alec's shoulder. Alec, almost instinctively, wraps his arm around Magnus' shoulders, reassured by the fact that Magnus is - quite literally - leaning on him for support.

"Thank you." Magnus whispers.

Alec frowns. "For what?" He hadn't done anything. Magnus hadn't told him anything, and Alec had barely accomplished anything, bar offering Magnus help if he wants it.

Magnus laughs, short and soft. His smile, when he glances at Alec, is warm and a little teasing. "For being you," Magnus explains.

Alec's confusion deepens. "Who else would I be?"

Magnus stares, like he thinks that Alec is joking, and then he rolls his eyes amusedly. "You don't get it?" He asks. It's a rhetorical question because, no, clearly, Alec doesn't.

He pulls himself up, but doesn't move away from Alec. Alec keeps his arm around Magnus' shoulder, because he feels like that's helping, and he likes the fact that it is essentially a one-sided hug.

Though a fact known to few, Alec is quite a fan of hugs.

"You're kind, and supportive, and unwavering. And you don't even get it half the time." Magnus shakes his head, fondly. "You just do it. You offer help, and advice, without thinking about it, or even considering what that might mean for you. You just want to help."

"Well-" Alec feels like he's missed something, staggering behind in a three-legged race while everyone else charges ahead of him. "You're my friend. My best friend. Of course I'm going to offer you help, because I want you to be okay, and happy, and it makes me sad, when you are sad."

Across the table, Jace groans. "You two are gross," He mumbles. "Not even Simon and Clary are as weirdly close as the two of you."

Simon makes a squeak of protest, but Magnus has already wrapped his arms around Alec, tight enough to almost knock them off the seat, head tucked against Alec's neck.

"I'm really glad we don't hate each other, anymore." Magnus mumbles. "I don't know what I'd do if we weren't friends."

Alec hugs Magnus back, as tight as he can. His first thought is, well,  _ditto_ , but that doesn't seem adequate enough. "I'm glad we're friends, too." He says, instead.

He's not sure he has the words to express just how glad he is, but he supposes that the hug, the way he's holding Magnus as tight as he possibly can, is good enough. He's not sure what he'd do if he and Magnus hated each other. It feels like such a long time ago, he was so stupid back then - they both were, really.

Not that it matters anymore. Because they're friends, and they support each other in everything, and maybe Alec is only okay at Potions, and maybe Magnus is sad about something that he doesn't want to talk about yet, but that's okay.

Because they have each other, to make it through the hard moments and the sad times. And in the comfort of Magnus' hug, Alec feels warm and happy and  _safe_. Like he could take on the world.

Or, perhaps, just what is bothering Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melati putih is, according to my research, one of three national flowers of Indonesia. It looks like [this](http://www.spicegrovebali.com/uploads/7/2/5/8/72587929/2519555_orig.jpg)
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3


	7. Sisters Always Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alec likes the weekends, Julian needs to give a pep talk, and Magnus could really do with a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, like Alec, love the weekends. I, unlike Alec, would never get up at nine o'clock on a weekend given the choice. What kind of insanity.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Alec loves the weekends.

Hogwarts is the best home he's ever known, and it's not like he hates his classes (well, except perhaps Potions, although Magnus at his side and Professor Garroway offering encouragement makes it slightly more bearable) but weekends give him the freedom to do whatever he likes without the constraints of lessons, homework, and study sessions looming over him.

Magnus, of course, sleeps in until eleven most weekends, so Alec spends most weekend mornings in the Great Hall, eating breakfast leisurely with whichever of his other friends have deigned to get up by nine o'clock.

While he munches absently on a piece of toast, Alec finds himself engrossed in one of the books Magnus bought him for Christmas on Saturday morning. Outside, signs of spring appear to be emerging, snowdrops and daffodils springing up among lush green grass and blossom beginning to appear on the trees around the grounds.

He's so caught up in Ginny Weasley's commentary on her time with the Holyhead Harpies, specifically the first time she entered the dressing room before an international match, that he doesn't notice someone calling his name from behind him.

"Alec," Isabelle says, smacking a hand down over his book and making him look up. He blinks at her in surprise, and she jerks her chin over his shoulder.

Alec turns, and mortification floods through him when he sees Julian standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, a smile on his face and his hair tousled, as though he's already been on a broom this morning. He's decked out in a pair of skinny jeans and a grey Henley with a pair of sunglasses hooked in the neck, and it occurs to Alec that he doesn't think he's ever actually seen Julian out of school robes or Quidditch robes. Well, he's seen him wearing various forms of Quidditch jerseys, when they've had training sessions at weekends, but he's never seen him...dressed like this. So casually.

He slightly looks like he's just walked out of a photoshoot.

"That's a good book," Julian says, smile not diminishing, "so I'll forgive you for ignoring me."

Red spills across Alec's cheeks, leaking all the way to the tips of his ears. "I wasn't– I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I—"

"Don't worry about it," Julian says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He indicates the bench space next to Alec. "Can I sit?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course, let me just—"

Alec pulls his stuff off the bench - his jacket, a Transfiguration essay from last year that Izzy had asked to look at, and a newspaper from the previous day that he hasn't read yet.

As Julian swings his legs over the bench and sits down, Alec realises how obvious it is that Julian is a sportsman. It's in the grace and power and agility of every movement, and Alec would be lying if he said he didn't want to be able to move something like that one day.

Something nervous churns in Alec's stomach as Julian flicks his hair out his eyes and repositions his sunglasses. Sure, he's trained with Julian, and they exchange the odd word in the corridors - mostly about Quidditch, but occasionally Julian says hello, even when he's with his friends - but Julian has never asked to sit down with him before.

Julian tilts his head to one side and smiles across the table at Izzy. "I'm Julian," he says, kindness and mischief in his eyes. "I'm captaining the team that's going to beat the hell out of Gryffindor in the summer, but don't take it too hard."

"Right," Isabelle says with a scoff. "Did you watch our match against Ravenclaw?"

Julian raises an eyebrow. "It was pretty close."

"But our technique was way better. They got a lucky shot early on, and we lost a chaser."

"I'll give you that," Julian says, grinning. "Quidditch enthusiast, by any chance?"

"Oh yeah." Isabelle grins right back. "I'm Isabelle. I'm Alec's sister."

"I can see the resemblance," Julian says, eyes flickering back to Alec, who's trying not to move too much in case it draws him back into the centre of attention. He's still suffering from his earlier embarrassment, as he's not sure he can cope with Julian looking at him again.

It's just... Well. Julian makes Alec feel...nervous. Something akin to intimidated, but not quite. Self-conscious. Uncertain. Shy.

He supposes it's not really surprising. Julian is seventeen, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain. Why wouldn't he make Alec feel a little star-struck?

"Have you got to the bit about the French captain yet?" Julian asks, nodding down at Alec's book.

"Oh, uh- No. She's talking about when she joined the Holyhead Harpies."

"Oh, that bit's hilarious," Julian says with a chuckle. "But she imparts some good advice about flying in poor conditions. You might want to take note."

"Yeah," Alec says, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Was it a Christmas present?"

Alec nods, and he feels his lips turn up at the memory of Christmas. "From Magnus."

"Hm." Something in Julian's face shifts. His smile drops, turning small but not disappearing, and he's looking at Alec as though searching for something of vital importance in his expression. "Ginny gives some good advice about the psychology of Quidditch, too."

Alec feels his lips part a little at the insanity of the expression being bestowed on him as he looks back at Julian, and he forgets that Isabelle is sitting right across from him as he says, "What sort of advice?"

"That Quidditch has to exist outside of everything else. Nothing can affect your head. Quidditch is a dangerous sport, and a tactical one, and you have to have your wits about you. Your thoughts can't be on something else."

Feeling like there's something he's missing, Alec frowns. "What do you mean?"

Julian exhales. "Alec, you're good enough to play. In the team."

Alec's heart leaps, and thuds double-time against his ribs as he stares at Julian with wonderstruck eyes. He knows that that doesn't mean he'll be playing this year, because this year's team was selected and finalised months ago, but by next year...

"Really?"

"Really," Julian says, but he doesn't smile. "And that's saying something. There hasn't been anyone on my team below the fourth year in all three years I've captained. But Alec, to be a great Quidditch player, even if it's just something you're passionate about while you're at school and not something you want to pursue in the future, you have to be good at more than just flying and passing and tactical formations. You have to be able to put aside everything else in your life and just play."

Alec's smile fades. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Alec, that's not what I mean." Julian's expression softens into something impossibly gentle, and he ducks his head, lowering his voice slightly. "When you're good, you're phenomenal. Especially considering how young you are. But you dip and dive too much. You're too affected by things going on in the rest of your life."

Alec feels his eyebrows pull together and furrow. "But that's one of the reasons I like Quidditch. I can get out of my head. I can forget that I'm terrible at Potions, and I can forget that my parents hate my house, and I can forget that Morgenstern exists, and—"

"I know," Julian says, not looking away from his eyes, "and frankly, I'm impressed by how well you can let those things go when you're in the air. But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Magnus," Julian says, softly, sympathy in his eyes. "I'm talking about Magnus. It's clear how close you two are, and it's lovely, but you're so influenced by his mood."

"He's my best friend," Alec says, and he wants to be defensive, but he just feels deflated. Because of course, of course, he can't have nice things, and two of the best parts of his life just have to clash this horribly. "Of course I'm influenced by his mood. Aren't you influenced by Emma?"

"All the time," Julian tells him, "because I love her, and she means the world to me, and her being upset makes me upset. But I still turn it off when I get on a broom, as does she. It's not that you stop caring, it's that you feel your emotions, forget _why_ you're feeling them, and channel all that hurt and upset and anger into winning. You don't get distracted by thinking about why you're upset in the first place."

"Okay," Alec says, quietly. "That sounds logical."

Julian's expression twists, and, if Alec didn't know better, he'd say Julian looked guilty.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with how close you are to Magnus, or that it's somehow going to hold you back. You understand that, don't you?"

"I understand," Alec says, but it's quiet, and he can't quite make himself look Julian in the eye.

"Alec." A hand curls lightly around his shoulder, the press of fingers warm through the material of his t-shirt. "I'm not having a go at you. I'm just trying to help. Your friendship with Magnus is genuinely heartwarming. It's not about that, it's about turning off distractions when you play."

"But I don't know how to do that," Alec says, glancing up at Julian from beneath his lashes.

"That's what I'm here for," Julian tells him, and squeezes his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face, overwhelming in its kindness. "Next time you're a bit distracted during practise, we'll talk about tactics and ways to deal with it, okay?"

"Okay." Alec feels a little better already. "Thank you."

"No problem. I'll let you finish your breakfast now."

Julian stands, pushing himself easily away from the length of the Gryffindor table. Before he heads off, he stoops slightly and gives Alec a one-armed hug. It's fleeting, but it's tight, and warm, and Alec thinks that's it's very clear that Julian is an older brother. He hugs like an older brother—like Alec would hug Izzy. Or maybe he hugs like a parent.

Not that Alec's parents are big on hugs. His mother kisses his hair, sometimes, but he can't remember the last time either of his parents hugged him. They don't even really approve of him hugging his siblings.

Alec finds himself clinging on. Julian is the only adult in his life who's ever encouraged him, and told him he's proud of his achievements, and supported what he does, and in the grand scheme of things, they're far from close. It's a bit of a depressing thought, that his house Quidditch captain is the only adult he knows who acts anything like a parent should.

Not that he thinks Julian is like his parent. That's weird beyond measure.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Julian says as he pulls away, ruffling Alec's hair affectionately. "Don't be late."

"See you later, Julian," Alec says, with a smile.

When he turns back to his book and his toast, he finds Isabelle watching him, fixing him with a piercing stare. He frowns at her and makes a _what?_ sort of motion with one hand.

"Nothing," Isabelle says, with a shrug, but there's a small, puzzled smile on her lips. "Nothing."

"Isabelle—"

"It's nothing, really," she says. "I just didn't realise how close you and Julian are. I mean, I knew you hero-worship him, but I didn't realise it's reciprocated."

"We're not close," Alec says dismissively. "Not really."

A quirk of her eyebrows demonstrates how dubious Isabelle is about that notion. "Really. He just trains everyone twice a week, one-on-one? And gives everyone solid life advice on a Saturday? And cares that much about everyone? Yeah, okay, I see. You're not that close."

"We're _not_ ," Alec insists, but internally, he can't help but wonder whether, perhaps, Julian's brotherly affection for him isn't as superficial as he'd presumed it to be.

***

"Do you think Jace fancies Clary?"

Magnus nearly drops his wand where he's twirling it around as he reads over a chapter for their Transfiguration lesson tomorrow. He sits up, pushing away from the soft damp grass he's laying on, and fixes Lydia with a stare. Lily and Catarina, too, are watching her with narrowed, disbelieving eyes, but Ragnor and Raphael seems distinctly unconcerned as they pour over Raphael's Potions homework, trying to work something out.

"What?" Lily asks, pulling a face. "They argue _all the time_."

"I know," Lydia says, with a diplomatic shrug. "I just... I don't know. They're so close, you know?"

"People keep telling me I'm weirdly close to Alec, that doesn't mean I wanna marry him," Magnus says, rolling his eyes. "Come off it. Even if Jace does like her, there's no way Clary would ever go out with him."

"God, can you imagine them _kissing_?" Lily pulls a revolted face. "Ew. That's disgusting."

Lydia shakes her head. "I don't– I don't mean they're going to start dating next week, that's weird. I just mean...don't they strike you as the kind of people who are going to get older and... I don't know. Just, where else is that sort of closeness going to go?"

"Uh, good friends?" Lily says, raising an eyebrow. "That's a thing. Even adults have friends. Some of them. Probably not people like Alec's parents."

Magnus and Catarina both snort, and Lily shoots them a grin.

"It's different, though, isn't it?" Lydia says, apparently unperturbed by their rejection of her entirely out-of-the-blue statement. "I mean, Simon and Clary are close, I can't imagine them getting together in a couple of years. But Jace and Clary..."

"I think you've been reading too many romance books," Lily says, tossing one leg over the other where she's laying sprawled out on her back in the sun, scarf wrapped around her neck to keep out the chill of an early March afternoon.

Lydia scoffs. "I have _not_. I just think... You know when people talk about kid-crushes?"

"You mean pedophilia?" Magnus asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You're gross," Lydia tells him flatly. "You know that's not what I mean. You know, innocent crushes. Like– Like—" She waves a hand vaguely in the air, appearing to be searching for an appropriate metaphor. "Like Alec and Julian."

Magnus feels his brain short-circuit. " _What?_ "

 _Alec and Julian?_ Julian is seventeen! There's no way Alec likes Julian. They play Quidditch, and Julian helps Alec to achieve things that are important to him, but Alec always talks about Julian like an earlier brother, not- not—

His friends don't appear to be having the same rebelling thoughts as him.

" _Oh_ ," Lily says, and she nods. "Yeah, alright, I'll give you that one, Branwell. You mean that sweet, innocent sort of devotion and admiration?"

"Yes!" Lydia sits up a little straighter and points at Lily. "Yes, that!"

"Hm," Catarina says, and she puts her book aside to lean back on her arms. "I suppose I can see it, now I know what you mean."

Lydia looks relieved. "I mean, I know it's not exactly the same, because obviously Julian is _way_ too old for Alec to date in a couple of years, and he's dating Emma and everything, but that kind of thing?"

"That's a very astute observation," Catarina says, and Lily nods in agreement.

Magnus, however, can't contain himself any longer. Forget Jace and Clary, he has to know what the hell they mean about Alec and Julian.

"I'm sorry," Magnus says, "but _what_ are you three talking about? _Alec and Julian?_ "

All three girls turn to face him, blank expressions of mild surprise on their faces. Magnus feels like he's missing something.

"Yes?" Lily says, staring at him as though he's gone insane. "Duh?"

Magnus pulls a face. "Julian coaches Alec to play Quidditch."

"And Alec is totally star-struck," Lily says. "Haven't you noticed?"

"I...I suppose so," Magnus says, and apparently that's as far as his friends' interest can stretch. They return to their speculative conversation about Jace and Clary, leaving Magnus reeling as he wonders whether he knows his supposed best friend at all.

***

For the first time in several weeks, Magnus doesn't come down to watch Alec train from the bleachers the following weekend. It's not that he always goes to watch Alec, because he doesn't, but he often takes a book or some homework to the practise pitch when Alec trains late enough in the day for Magnus to have had a satisfactory weekend lie-in.

Instead, he avoids Alec at breakfast, because he's not in a good mood and he doesn't want Alec to draw attention to it, and then hauls himself off to the library where he can curl up in a corner by the window and write his Herbology essay.

The library is cold, despite the sun perched high in the sky, only a few wispy clouds around to block its rays. He shivers a little and leans against the window where he's perched on the stone sill, levitating his textbook above his knees and resting his parchment against his thighs.

Just as he's beginning to consider going down to get some lunch, having finished his essay and flicking through a book he'd borrowed last week, he hears a voice from the end of the bookshelves.

"There you are," Alec says, still in a Quidditch jersey, gloves held in one hand. "I was looking everywhere for you."

Magnus lets his book fall shut and unfolds his legs, and the conversation had between his friends a few days previously flits into his mind. _Alec and Julian?_ It sounds ridiculous. Magnus doesn't really know why the prospect makes him feel so weirded out. It's not like it means anything. He'd had an enormous crush on his year three primary school teacher. It was...well. Nothing more than what Lily and Lydia had described—a sort of hero-worship.

"Are you okay?" Alec asks, coming closer. "The others said you didn't go to breakfast."

"I did go to breakfast," Magnus tells him. "I just went with Kieran. You know, our year, my house, really dark hair?"

"Yeah, I know him," Alec says. "He nearly scorched off my eyebrows in Defence Against the Dark Arts last year, but he seems alright. I think tried out for Quidditch. I didn't know you two were friends."

Magnus shrugs a little. "We're not best buddies, but I sleep in a dorm with fifteen other Slytherin boys. It's not like I'm unfriendly with them. Except Sebastian and his posse, obviously."

"Obviously." There's a pause, and Alec gestures to the deep windowsill Magnus is sitting on. "Can I sit?"

"Course."

Alec sits down facing Magnus, leaning against the opposite side of the hollow, and his eyes scan across Magnus' face. "You never said whether or not you're okay."

Everything in Magnus wants to lie to Alec. He wants to lie, to say he's fine, there's nothing wrong, Alec doesn't have to worry. But he remembers Alec's words, weeks ago when he'd come down after being gifted that bloody flower, and the way he'd wrapped his arm around Magnus' shoulders as though he was offering to hold him together while he feel apart.

_If there was ever something wrong - you could tell me._

Instead of pretending, like he did last time, Magnus reaches a hand into the pocket of his jumper and pulls out the wooden charm, painted white and carved into the shape of a flower that means something terribly intimate to Magnus. He holds it in the palm of his hand and extends it towards Alec, who's watching him with curiosity and confusion.

"Someone gave me this," Magnus says quietly, nodding at the flower. "For Christmas. At least, I assume it was supposed to be a Christmas present. There was no name, no note, no return address, not even a signature. It was left on my bed, so I don't know whether it came through the mail, or whether a student left it, or..." He trails off a shakes his head.

Alec glances up from the flower and catches Magnus' gaze. "What is it? I mean, I know what it _is_ , obviously, but why—?"

The perks of having been such close friends for more than a year is that Magnus knows what Alec means without him having to finish his sentence.

" _Melati putih_ ," Magnus says, and Alec's eyebrows draw together. "It's one of the national flowers of Indonesia. It's very tightly woven in our culture. The only photo I have of my mother is of her on her wedding day, and she's got this flower in her hair. Traditional Javanese weddings - that's where I'm from, Java - pretty much always feature these."

Alec nods a little as Magnus speaks, but he doesn't say anything, clearly recognising that Magnus is rambling out anecdotes that diverge from the point to give himself a little more time to think. About what he wants to say, and how much he wants to say.

"They were special to my mother," Magnus says, quietly, "and she grew them all the time I knew her. Even when we moved to England, she tried to grow them indoors. They liked the cold about as much as I do."

He smiles wryly, and he sees Alec's lips turn up, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the flower in his hands. He can't quite bring himself to meet Alec's gaze.

"I don't know who would give me something like this," Magnus murmurs, while tears prick at his eyes, "and I don't know why. Nobody knows anything about my family. My family are all dead. Well, except—"

A hand rests lightly on his knee. "Except?"

"Except my step-father," Magnus says, closing his eyes and swallowing. "He wasn't a particularly nice man. In fact, he's the reason my mother moved us to England. But so far as I know, he's still in Indonesia. And he didn't give a rat's arse about me. So I just...I don't understand. I don't understand who gave this to me and I don't understand why. It seems like some kind of cruel joke."

Fingers brush his, and he realises he's curled his fist so tightly around the wooden flower that his knuckles have turned pale. He loosens his grip, and lifts misty eyes up to the soft, sympathetic face of his friend.

"Can I see?" Alec asks, voice gentle, and it's not at all what Magnus expected him to say. Blinking, he nods, and opens his hand to offer the flower to Alec.

Alec turns it over in his hand, touching it like Magnus would a precious gem, and runs his fingertip across the back of a petal.

"There's something written here," Alec says, leaning forwards to show Magnus. "Is it...is that a spell?"

"I can't read it," Magnus says, frowning at the tiny letters etched into the wood. "Repan... Repari...?

" _Reparifarge_?" Alec asks, surprise colouring his voice. "Really?"

Magnus glances up at him. "Why? What is it?"

"It's an untransfiguration spell," Alec says. "Although it's usually for something that hasn't been transfigured properly. It's like damage control. My parents used to use it a lot when we were young. Especially where Jace was concerned. He never has been good at Transfiguration. And...well. Max is three, but he seems to have a weird natural aptitude for transfiguring things."

"Does that mean this has been...transfigured?" Magnus asks, puzzled. "But why? What is it?"

Alec pulled his wand out of the pocket of his Quidditch trousers and shrugged. "I guess we're about to find out whether or not I need to curse someone."

Alarmed at the leap, Magnus' eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Well, if we untransfigure this, and it's some kind of practical joke deliberately disguised as something that would upset you, I need to curse whoever gave it to you. Azkaban be damned."

"Azkaban?"

"Wizarding prison," Alec says, not taking his eyes off the flower as he lowers his wand tip to it. "I think we're supposed to be learning about it in A History of Magic at some point this year. _Reparifarge_."

The end of Alec's wand glows, like a metal rod placed in a furnace, and the glow spreads across the wood, shrouding it in soft orange. They stare, enraptured, as the glow begins to diminish, and they see the wood softening, until—

"Oh," Magnus whispers as Alec lowers his wand. He extends a hand to touch the delicate petals, and feels a lump in his throat when he realises that the flower is _real_. Right down to the way the petals have curled in a little, not in full bloom due to the time of day. Real, but preserved. " _Alec_."

"Maybe this was meant to be a nice gift," Alec says, tipping the flower back into Magnus' hand. "Not a cruel one."

"A badly transfigured flower?" Magnus asks, choking on his words a little as he tries not to cry.

"There's a creepy little place in Knockturn Alley that tries to scam muggles with things like this. Maybe you've got a muggle admirer."

"I don't know what to think," Magnus says, and he's being pulled into a hug right as the tears start to fall. He squeezes his eyes shut as he shudders in Alec's arms, the cold press of the glass window grounding against his shoulder, and he tries to gulp in air.

"It's okay," Alec is murmuring, voice low and kind in his ear as he holds him close. "Magnus, it's okay. I've got you."

Magnus lets out a weak, watery laugh, and buries his face against the Hufflepuff-yellow of Alec's Quidditch jumper. "I know."

They don't move for a long moment, Alec's fingers pressed into his back and Magnus' curled lightly into his sweater. He can't remember the last time he let someone see him cry. It's not something he likes anyone being witness to. It's embarrassing, and it makes him feel small, and so vulnerable. It gives people too much power to crush him.

But he trusts Alec. He trusts that Alec would never do such a thing. And he feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, telling Alec all of this.

"Okay?" Alec asks, as he - clearly reluctantly, from the look on his face - lets Magnus go when he pulls back. "Feel better?"

"A bit," Magnus admits. He slips the flower gently back in his pocket, and scrubs at his face with his sleeves. "Sorry. For crying on you."

"Don't apologise," Alec tells him, with a smile. "It's okay. I'm here for all of it. Good, bad and ugly. Not that you're ever ugly, obviously, just—"

At Alec's fumbling, Magnus smiles, lips curling up fondly. "I know what you mean," he says.

"Can I make up for my social blunder by showing you the best perk of being a Hufflepuff?"

Intrigued, Magnus nods. "Be my guest."

Alec grins. "Prepare to be amazed."

And he grabs Magnus' hand, motions for Magnus to pick up his things, and drags him unceremoniously out of the library, shooting Sebastian Slimeball the sweetest smile Magnus thinks he's ever seen as they pass him. It makes Sebastian jerk to a stop in the entryway of the library, causing Camille to bash into him from behind.

Magnus bites his lip to stop his smirk at Sebastian's look of utter shock. He's so glad to have Alec as a friend.

***

"The Hufflepuff common room?" Magnus asks, raising an eyebrow and watching Alec with amusement as they descend the stairs. "Are you hiding the ghost of Freddie Mercury in there?"

Alec pulls a face. "Who?"

"Freddie Mercury. Lead singer of Queen? Rock legend? Bisexual superstar? My idol?" Magnus sighs at Alec's look of total incomprehension. "You people are way too sheltered."

While Alec leads them through the school, Magnus attempts to educate him on arguably his favourite band in the world. (Also, one of the few bands he can listen to at will—orphanages don't support streaming services, and it takes him sixth months to save up enough tidbits of change to buy a CD.) He's fairly sure most of it goes over Alec's head.

They approach a lone painting of a bowl of fruit hanging on the wall not far from the Hufflepuff common room; Magnus quirks an eyebrow when he notes that it's possibly the only painting in the entire castle that _doesn't_ move.

At least, it doesn't until Alec reaches up a hand and tickles his fingertips against a ripe pair sitting near the front of the bowl. Magnus gapes at him, wondering momentarily whether Alec has gone completely insane, before the painting shimmers, and a green door handle presents itself.

Alec looks over his shoulder and grins as he twists the knob. "This is why Hufflepuff is the best house."

"Where are we going?" Magnus demands, although something in the back of his mind is contrasting Alec's newfound house pride with the self-loathing he'd expressed consistently this time last year.

"Welcome," Alec says, pushing the door open, "to the Hogwarts kitchens."

Magnus' eyes widen as he looks past Alec into the room beyond, and he feels his stomach lurch.

The kitchens are enormous, filled with gleaming pots and pans hanging and hovering magically, many of them cleaning themselves by the sink as steaming water rushes intermittently out of the taps. Five long tables are erected in an exact replica of the layout of those in the Great Hall, and food is being transported from stoves and pans and dishes onto platters and plates and bowls.

But after a year and a half at Hogwarts, Magnus is becoming gradually more accustomed to careless, beautiful displays of domestic, everyday magic. That's not what makes his eyes widen.

There are...people? Elves? Gnomes? Magnus doesn't know what to call them. But they're small, skinny, some dressed in tattered garments and others dressed in bizarre mixtures of more ordinary clothing, rushing about, clearly running the place.

"Mr Lightwood!"

One of the creatures, wearing a purple cable-knit sweater and a pair of fluffy orange slippers, waves at Alec from where it's standing with a towering plate of toast. The movement makes the toast wobble precariously, and, reflexively, Magnus tips his wand towards the falling toast and says, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The creature turns its large eyes on Magnus, blinking owlishly as it plucks a hovering piece of toast from the air. "Thank you, sir."

"Sorry," Alec says, a little sheepishly, as he helps the creature re-stack the toast. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's alright," it - _she_ , Magnus wonders? She looks like a she - replies cheerily. "Who's this?"

"This is Magnus Bane," Alec says. "Magnus, this is Hokey."

"Nice to meet you," Magnus says, trying not to let his voice betray his alarm. He's learnt about the existence of magical creatures, obviously, but the closest thing he's ever had to seeing one was the niffler on the front of Alec's Christmas card last year. Oh, and the school ghosts, he supposes, but at least they were human once.

"Hot chocolate?" Hokey asks, already zipping off into the swirling crowds of creatures bustling about. "For both of you?"

"Please," Alec calls after her. "Thank you!"

"Alexander," Magnus hisses, pulling at the sleeve of Alec's Quidditch jersey as he leans in close to avoid being overheard by their non-human companions. "What on earth are they?"

Alec blinks at him. "They're house-elves, Magnus."

"A school has house-elves?" Magnus asks, eyes widening in horror. "We keep _slaves_? Do you people never take history lessons?"

"Oh, god." Alec lets out a little laugh. "No, that's not really something we do anymore. Not since Hermione Granger advanced house-elf rights. It's basically illegal. Although, try telling my parents that. They hate her."

Magnus feels like he needs to sit down. "So wizards and witches keep magical little creatures called house-elves as servants instead. Lovely."

"Most of them want to serve," Alec says. "They're very loyal. It's...hard to explain. Our family house-elf has technically been free to do as he pleases since long before I was born, but he wants to stay with our family."

"Just when I think I'm starting to understand this whole magic thing." Magnus exhales and shakes his head. "It's so bizarre."

Hokey brings them hot chocolate a few moments later, and Alec pulls Magnus by the hand to the end of one of the long tables, sitting well out of the way of the hectic movements of the elves. Magnus notices that someone - presumably a student - has left a black and yellow scarf in here. It's been hung up carefully by the fire.

"Do you feel better now?" Alec asks gently, looking over at him with painfully sincere eyes.

"Mmhm." Magnus swallows his mouthful of hot chocolate and leans closer to Alec's side. He reaches into his pocket to pull out the flower, perfectly preserved where it should, by all accounts, have been crumpled and ruined, and sets it on the table in front of them. "I still don't understand, though."

Alec wraps an arm around Magnus' shoulders. "I'm sure you will, one day."

"Yeah." Magnus sighs, a little wistfully, and drops his head on Alec's shoulder as they both stare at the flower laying innocuously on the smooth wood of the table. "One day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the HP lore in this - the untransfiguration spell, the entrance to the kitchens - is from JK Rowling's Harry Potter, not just made up by me. I love it far too much to taint it with my rubbish ;) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, let us know what you thought in the comments -- we love hearing from you <3


	8. In Quiet Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is that which seem insignificant that ends up meaning the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter is late, real life has thrown me a bit of a curveball but I am here, with a new chapter which I hope you enjoy <3

 

Alec throws the covers of his bed back, the cold air biting his skin despite his cotton pajamas. He takes care to remain as quiet as possible, the morning sky outside not yet lit by the rising sun - he doesn't want to incur the wrath of at least ten guys who've had their precious sleep taken away from them before they absolutely  _have_  to be awake.

Alec haphazardly makes his bed, not bothering with tucking corners or fluffing pillows because he's only going to mess it up again tonight when he returns. He quickly gets changed, pausing at awkward intervals when a light snore or low rustle catches his attention, cold fear spiking inside of him. It's not that he's doing anything wrong, not necessarily, he just doesn't want to answer anyone's questions.

Especially Simon, who for all his kindness has a sense of curiosity stronger than his perception of when a question, or five, are really appropriate.

Alec wraps his scarf loosely around his neck to keep the cold at bay, tucking his gloves into his pockets for later. He'd cleaned his broom the other day, thanks to Julian who'd given him an older pot of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish after Alec had sheepishly admitted that he didn't really know how to do it himself. It's been a few weeks now, since Julian had sat Alec down and spent an entire hour just explaining all the little tips for taking care of and preserving the broom, polishing the handle and clipping the bristles so he moves as swift as possible through the air.

He's learnt a lot since meeting Julian, about more than just Quidditch, about the importance of house pride and not letting other people, family included, impact how he thinks, about distancing himself from the influences of others and paying attention to his own feelings.

It's why Alec is sneaking out before breakfast, to get an extra thirty or so minutes of training in by himself - Julian had been trying to teach him distraction tactics so that his only focus is on how he's playing and not the external world around him, but it's been harder than he'd thought.

Not that he really expected it to be easy, by any degree, but it's like he's reverted back to first year, when he didn't know anything and constantly felt like a fraud for even being acknowledged by the captain of a Quidditch team. These days, he has slightly more belief in himself and his abilities, but he doesn't think he's exceptional, and his failure at keeping his mood distanced from that of his siblings, and more specifically Magnus, feels like another shortcoming that he just can't move past.

It's the same dark stone that had sunk in his gut when the Sorting Hat and called out his house, when he came a split-second away from blowing up his cauldron in Potions - when he realised that, no matter how hard he tried he'd likely never live up to the expectations his parents hold him to.

Alec hates failing, hates feeling as though his efforts are inadequate, as though no matter how far he reaches he'll always fall short.

Instead of wallowing in his self-pity and letting it keep him down, though, he's doing something about it. It's not fair of him to waste Julian's time, something so precious and important that could, arguably, be used for better things.

If Julian is willing to help him hone his abilities and improve, then it's only fair that Alec put in just as much effort.

Jace keeps saying that talent is half of the process, or something equally as arrogant, but Alec disagrees - for him, it's not. Julian insists that he has talent, but even if that is true, there is only so far that talent can take him; he needs to put in the work if he wants to get anywhere.

If he wants to one day get on the Quidditch team, he needs to be prepared for it.

 

* * *

 

Alec stomps into the Great Hall at breakfast.

Magnus shares a quick, confused look with Simon and Clary, and scoots over as Alec slumps down next to him. His shoulders are hunched forward, and his hair is tangled and erratic but ... it's more than just bedhair. This is the same as when exams come around and they find themselves drowning beneath schoolwork; it's stress induced and, for Magnus, very worrying.

Simon parts his mouth, to greet Alec with what will likely be an excited stream of babble, but Magnus subtly shakes his head. Simon only means well, and it's sweet, but not the appropriate time. Fortunately, Simon seems to understand that, returning to his previous conversation with Clary without even a blink.

Magnus isn't sure exactly, what's wrong - things have been going really well for Alec, recently. Julian, and occasionally Emma, are giving him praise for his Quidditch skills, enough to make Jace begrudgingly jealous, and Alec is even doing fairly well at the theoretical side of Potions, though he sometimes still struggles with the practice - even Sebastian is being considerably less of a dick in recent days.

Magnus is still waiting for the impact of whatever Sebastian is obviously planning, because he knows that the hit will come, and hard, but it's nothing worth stressing about at the moment.

"Hi," Magnus whispers, reaching for a cranberry muffin, so that it appears as though he is just making casual conversation. He doubts that Alec will believe it, but others observing them might, which will protect Alec from an uncomfortable situation.

"Morning," Alec replies, quietly. He doesn't lift his head, doesn't make any move to eat either, which just tightens the knot in Magnus' stomach.

Magnus breaks his muffin in half, offering one to Alec with a gentle smile. He doesn't want to press for an explanation, or upset Alec any further, but it's not good for him to miss breakfast, either.

"Since when do you share food?" Alec asks, a slight edge to his tone. He takes the muffin half, anyway, which Magnus considers an accomplishment.

Magnus shrugs, attempting to keep the moment light. "Since I've had the chance to eat it before you steal it from me. This time, I'm offering."

Alec glances at him, the corner of his mouth twisted down. His deft fingers pick at the top of the muffin, tearing crumbs, a few of which he puts to his mouth - it's something, Magnus thinks, and something is a lot better than nothing.

"Are you excited," Magnus asks, gently bumping Alec's shoulder with his own. "I heard In History of Magic that we're going to be learning about that wizard prison you mentioned the other week, with the funny name."

"Azkaban?" Alec shakes his head, the the edge of his mouth pulling up with the hint of a smile. "Even if you can't say it, you'll need to be able to spell it."

"I am perfectly capable of  _spelling_  it," Magnus punctuates his quip with an over-the-top wink; it's just cheesy enough to induce a reluctant huff of laughter from Alec. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm quite skilled at spells."

"It's not a spell, it's a prison." Alec replies, with an exasperated sigh. Internally, a part of Magnus jumps in premptive joy. "And, yeah, I'm kind of excited. It's supposed to be an interesting place, there's a lot of history there. Sirius Black was locked up there for a really long time - he's the godfather of Harry Potter-"

_That guy, again._  Magnus thinks. He knows that this Potter guy is a big deal, the hero of the last century and this great Quidditch star and whatever, but he's talked about a lot - it's not like he's God.

Or, Magnus' god - Freddie Mercury.

Alec continues. "-I mean, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, in what's probably the biggest prison in the entire world, muggles included, it's just - it's so crazy. I hope we get to learn some more about him."

"If you're lucky," Magnus replies, noting with a spark of joy that most of Alec's muffin half has disappeared. If he gets nothing else done today, he's at least accomplished the feat of getting his distressed friend to eat a little.

He plans on getting to the root of whatever is bothering Alec, at some point - but he respects that whatever it is, Alec isn't comfortable with sharing yet. Alec had given him the space he needed to sort himself out, when the "gift" - that he still doesn't understand - had first arrived, and Alec deserves the same.

Magnus is going to be there for Alec, but only if and when he's ready to explain. Until then, Magnus has an entire spellbook's worth of bad jokes to keep Alec entertained and distracted.

 

* * *

 

"Muggle Studies?"

Lydia raises her eyebrows slowly at the textbooks and pamphlets spread before Alec. They agreed to meet in the library for a study session, because assignments are quickly accumulating, and the two of them work best in comparative silence, something not really possible around others of their friend group.

Lydia had expected to find Alec stressing over Potions, not a subject he isn't even taking yet. They still have plenty of time to worry about what electives they want to take next year, Lydia hasn't even made a concrete decision herself yet.

Alec looks up, eyes blown wide. "I just-"

"Apparently there's an excursion to 'observe' how muggles go about their day-to-day, I'm not sure why that is so important because five minutes in a shopping center during Christmas sales will tell you all you need to know." Lydia settles into the seat opposite Alec, flipping open the cover of her  _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  textbook.

It had taken her a little while, but Lydia learnt that letting Alec bring up a subject that's bothering him when he's ready, will prove to be more productive in helping than if she tries and forces it. If she pretends as though there is nothing out of the ordinary going on, it remains Alec's decision if there actually is.

"I want to choose something that will help me, you know?" Alec sighs, sliding his stuff aside. "I don't want to take a class for the sake of it, I want to learn something, I want there to be a point."

Lydia shakes her head fondly. "You're a rare type of person, Alec. Most kids our age just want to take the class that's easiest, with the least amount of work or the most fun available. You want to take a class that benefits you? That's almost unheard of."

"Don't you?" Alec asks.

Lydia shrugs, the corner of her mouth twisting downward. "I don't know what I want to choose yet. There's a lot of options, a lot of classes that would probably be fun but - I mean, do I want to choose something worthwhile like you, or do I want to choose a class that I can enjoy because I'm not always going to have these options?"

Soon enough, the chosen classes won't be because of a subject that interests them, but that which will help them towards their chosen career - something else that Lydia doesn't have a concrete decision on yet.

"It's only our second year," Alec points out with a slight undertone of laughter. "I thought we were supposed to be given some time to adjust and enjoy school before we started resenting it. How is it this stressful already?"

"You poor, homeschooled soul." Lydia tuts. "If there is something expected from you, in any way - schoolwork, training, whatever - it's bound to elicit stress of some sort. It just means that you get a bigger sense of accomplishment when it's done."

Alec frowns, pulling open his own  _Herbs and Fungi_  textbook. "Doesn't get rid of the stress though." He grumbles. "The previous source will just be replaced by a new one."

Lydia's noticed Alec's recent bad mood. At first, she thought it was just school, and then perhaps something to do with Quidditch, and how Jace seems to be making more of an impact in his second year than Alec - that of course being stated without consideration of how hard Alec is working to improve upon his pre-existing skills.

It's almost as though Alec can't see the progress he's making, or how proud everyone else is of him. It's already a big deal that Alec is being coached, one-on-one with the Captain of a Quidditch team; that in itself proves that Alec is incredibly talented, but in his eyes, it's not enough, because Jace is playing games every now and then, and Alec isn't.

Despite all of that, however, Lydia thinks that there is something more, something deeper beneath the surface that Alec isn't adressing.

"Hey, Alec?" Lydia tries to keep her tone light, casual. "Did something happen, recently ... something that upset you? Did Sebastian say something to you?"

"Sebastian has been uncharacteristically silent since Jace and Simon planted that smoke-bomb on him." Alec says, with some relief, though not enough to convince Lydia that everything is okay.

"That's good." Lydia scribbles something in the margins of her page, lips pursed. "But there is something bothering you, isn't there?"

Alec doesn't splutter, or refute the statement. Simply nods, taking a moment to calm himself with a few deep breaths, before letting it all out in one tired exhale. "It's ... my parents."

Lydia glances up, a question in her eyes. Alec shakes his head in response.

"They sent Iz a letter. Jace, too. I don't know why it bothers me, that I didn't get one. I know that they're ... disappointed, in me - from being in Hufflepuff to failing at Potions-"

"Professor Garroway said that you're getting better at Potions." Lydia cuts in, gently, because she can't stand to see Alec's hard work get buried beneath his parents' disapproval.

"He did." Alec shrugs, as though it's something half-hearted that people just say, but don't really mean. "I get the feeling my parents don't respect the professors, much. Unless I'm getting full grades - in their eyes, I'm failing. I've accepted that I'm bound to be a disappointment, I get that, and it's not that I care, so much - I like being in Hufflepuff, I belong there, it's just - I don't know, I just hoped for more, I guess."

"It's okay, Alec." Lydia smiles, gentle and small. "You don't have to compromise on who you are, to get your parents to like you. But, that doesn't remove the urge to be respected. It makes sense that you'd feel ... left-out, when your siblings receive a letter and you don't."

Alec sighs. "Not even a hello. They couldn't even pretend that they cared."

Lydia nips at the inside of her cheek. "They do care about you, Alec, they're your parents. With all of you here, they're probably just missing Isabelle, they're not used to her being away from home. You're the oldest, they might just expect you to be okay without them. You're comfortable here."

Alec taps a patterned beat against his textbook. "I'm floating." He admits. "I'm not the son that my parents want, not really, and I'm not sure that I can fix that. I can't get re-sorted into Gryffindor. Can't suddenly excel at Potions. Can't turn into somebody that I'm not."

"You don't have to." Lydia states, firm in her conviction but gentle in tone. "You just have to be you, Alec. You're good enough as you are."

"Thanks," Alec mutters, although he doesn't sound very convinced. Lydia understands, it's not always easy, especially with parents who place such a heavy weight on living up to expectations - but it's possible, and Alec is, in a way, quite lucky.

He has his siblings, and he has friends, like her, and Magnus, Lily, Clary and Simon, who'll always babble away with praise given the green light, and the others to a slightly lesser though no less insistent degree.

And, Lydia thinks with a private smile, he has Julian's support behind him. It's quite a sweet dynamic, and Julian's help has been almost invaluable in boosting Alec's confidence on the field.

It's when Alec's off his broom, that things start turning a little ... topsy-turvy.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Magnus!"

Magnus spins on his heel, shifting his books in the crook of his arm. Isabelle bounds up to him, quickly, her robe swaying behind her. They talk, a bit, but they're not close in the way that Isabelle is with some of the others, Simon and Clary especially - she seems to be oddly fascinated by their stories of mundane life and what they did before they came to Hogwarts, Simon's excited babble enough to satisfy her endless questions.

Her latest obsession, according to Alec, is video games, something that Magnus has never really gotten the hang of. Not that the orphanage ever really had many video games - old, stale board games with boxes that were ripped at the corners and smelt of mothballs, with barely half the pieces, were more their style.

Regardless, it is sweet, and reassuring for Alec to know that Isabelle is making friends, that she's handling herself quite well at Hogwarts. The less that Alec has to stress about, the more at ease Magnus is likely to feel, too.

"Isabelle, hello." Magnus greets her with a kind smile. Despite their limited acquaintance, he has nothing but respect for her; at only eleven, she is wiser and more mature than half of Hogwarts.

"Hi." Isabelle straightens, not an ounce out of breath. "Sorry to chase you down, I wasn't sure how else to talk to you."

Magnus frowns. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Isabelle nods, glancing quickly to the side. "Alone, if it's possible. About Alec."

Almost instantaneously, the hair on the back of Magnus' neck stands to attention. He gestures towards the courtyard, where a few other students are milling about. Alec has Quidditch practice with Julian, and although Magnus has some Transfiguration work he should probably be focusing on, this is more important.

They stop at a long stone bench, settled beneath a wide oak tree. Magnus bunches his robe up beneath him, as sort of a cushion between him and the bench. Isabelle doesn't seem as bothered by the cold stone as he is - bloody Lightwoods and they're resistance to anything that would annoy a normal person.

"I won't ask if everything is okay," Magnus shrugs. "Because I don't imagine you'd have made such an effort to talk to me about Alec if it was."

Isabelle strokes her hand along the length of her braid, smoothing it out, almost nervously. "Has he seemed off to you, recently? A little down?"

Magnus inclines his head, thoughtfully. "I suppose," He admits. "I never considered it as something out-of-the-ordinary - between Quidditch and school, he's bound to be a little stressed ... why, do you think it's more than that?"

Isabelle wrings her hands together in front of her. "Jace and I, the other day, we both got a letter from our parents. Very short, brisk and to the point - Jace said that his was just about working harder to get a permanent place on the team, and making them proud. Mine was little more than a firm encouragement to live up to the Gryffindor name; nothing all that surprising."

Magnus offers a sympathetic smile, amused slightly at the low scoff Isabelle lets out. "If you're curious about what Alec's letter said, I'm afraid I don't know. I wasn't aware he even received one."

Isabelle shakes her head, the corner of her mouth turned down in distaste. "That's because Alec didn't get one. I apologised when I found out, I didn't want him to think I was bragging or anything, but it was too late."

Magnus curses, low and beneath his breath - he'd promised Alec, in less words, that he wouldn't swear so much around his sister, but there's some times where nothing else feels adequate enough. Magnus already had a low perspective of Alec's parents, considering how awfully they treat him, but this is ridiculous.

This is an entirely new level of horrible. Alec deserves better than this, he's trying harder than most to do his best, and if his parents can't see that then they deserve the curses that fall from Magnus' lips.

"I haven't replied." Isabelle, to little surprise, appears as agitated as Magnus feels. "I don't think they really deserve a response; if they don't have the time to allocate to writing a letter for Alec than I'm too busy with school to reply."

Magnus admires Isabelle's firm conviction, and her ability to stand up for herself against even her parents, but it does little to take away from the fact. "The best we can do," He hugs his textbooks to his chest, as though by doing so it will halt the ache that's spreading behind his ribs. "Is support him ourselves. Maybe your parents will write him a letter, later-"

Isabelle screws up her nose, mouth twisting. Magnus laughs, but it's thin and there's little humour to it. "I know, it seems improbable, but hope is powerful." He winks, cheesily. "Though not as powerful as magic."

Or love, he thinks. There's a fierceness humming beneath Isabelle's tone, a determination to do anything if it will make her brother smile, and Magnus understands that with a ferocity of his own.

Isabelle stands up, brushing her robes. "I think I might head to the pitch - if he questions it, I can always say I'm just interested in the training techniques he's being taught, which, I kind of am."

Magnus nods. "I think that's a lovely idea."

He's not sure what he's going to do, just that he wants to do something. He hates the idea of Alec being sad, for a reason that isn't his fault - and if he knows Alec as well as he thinks he does, it wouldn't be amiss for Alec to pretend that everything is fine when it clearly isn't.

He'll find something. He always does.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is bustling through the hallway, trying to follow the well-intentioned but rather erratic instructions that Simon had given him about where Alec had last been seen. He thinks he's heading towards the Hufflepuff common room, or at least he hopes so, but even now the staircases still rattle him from time to time, and he's focusing more on finding Alec than where he is going.

Magnus rounds the corner, spotting a flash of purple and orange.  _Hokey?_

The idea of house-elves is still quite bizarre to Magnus, as is the fact that most of the secret goings-on, transporting trunks and packages and even food is, apparently, all done by house-elves; but Alec had explained it enough to reassure Magnus that they weren't slaves, they do get paid for their services, though most of it is token, and they're free to do as they please otherwise.

It's not all that different from muggle blue-collar workers, Magnus thinks, even as his steps quicken down the hall.

"Hokey," He calls out, hoping it's not disrespectful. He isn't sure of house-elf ettiquette, but Hokey had seemed to know Alec quite well, and he's hoping that their friendship will help him.

Not that he's entirely sure what he even wants to ask Hokey, just that he gets the feeling she might be able to help him, help  _Alec_.

Hokey spins on her fluffy orange slippers, the multicoloured knit cap on her head bobbing with the movement. Her smile is as bright as her eyes, as though she's excited purely by Magnus' presence alone. It's, odd, but not unpleasant.

"Mr Bane," Hokey greets warmly. "Mr Lightwood's good friend. How can I help you today?"

Magnus part his mouth, but no words come out. Hokey blinks, owlishly. "You are looking for help, yes?"

"Uh," Magnus clears his throat. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Hokey nods, as though it makes sense. "I noticed that Mr Lightwood looks sad today. You want to help Mr Lightwood feel happy."

Magnus nods. "I would, yes."

Hokey adjusts her cap, apparently satisfied with his answer. "Mr Lightwood often asks for hot chocolate. He's always very kind. I will make hot chocolate, that you can take for him. Perhaps that will make him happy again."

"You would really do that?" Magnus doesn't mean to sound, unappreciative, but he doesn't want to unecessarily trouble Hokey.

Hokey smiles, kind and a little amused. "Mr Lightwood is the first Lightwood to show me any respect. Many of the kitchen house-elves like Mr Lightwood, because he is nice, and a little shy, and he treats us like equals, not staff. It is no trouble. I want to do this."

Magnus clears his throat. "Okay. Okay. That would be really nice, thank you Hokey."

Hot chocolate isn't a big gesture, which is good, because Alec doesn't like attention in that way - it is simply something that Alec likes, and perhaps that will make him feel better, at least for the duration of the drink itself.

Magnus doesn't want to feel as though there's something he could have done to help, that he didn't do. Alec was there for him, when he needed it, and it's Magnus' turn to repay the favour.

 

* * *

 

Hokey lets him into the Hufflepuff common room through the same entrance Alec had led him the other day. There's a few students milling about, but the great thing about Hufflepuff is the students in that house are less likely to stare, judge or spread rumours as those in, say, Slytherin.

Not to compromise on house pride or anything.

Magnus spots Alec sitting in the corner, on an armchair big enough to swallow him. He has a textbook spread open on his pulled up knees, but Magnus gets the feeling he isn't really paying attention to the words in front of him.

Which works for Magnus, because then he doesn't have to feel bad for interrupting Alec's work. He darts his way across the room, exchanging a tiny smile with Simon, who's playing Exploding Snap with Clary and losing, if Magnus can accurately tell.

Alec doesn't glance up until Magnus is standing close enough to occupy his entire field of vision. "Magnus?" He frowns, turning to his attention to the mugs piled with froth and marshmallows - an extra touch - in Magnus' hands. "What is that?"

Magnus rolls his eyes. "An invitation." He explains, with only a hint of sarcasm.

Alec closes his textbook, putting it on the flat arm of the chair, then takes the mug from Magnus with cautious hands. Magnus offers him a quick smile, before folding himself onto the floor.

"What are you doing down there?" Alec asks, frowning.

Magnus shrugs. "I'm sitting. I'm not going to just dump this hot chocolate on you and leave, Alexander - I thought I was a better friend than that."

Alec's frown deepens. He glances between Magnus, and the drink in his hand, before sliding to the floor himself. It's Magnus' turn to frown then.

"You're a wonderful friend," Alec mumbles, cradling his mug. "How did you even get this?"

"The house-elf you introduced me too," Magnus glances at the painting hiding the entrance he'd been snuck in through. "Hokey. I ran into her in the halls, and she offered to make some, because she noticed that you were looking a little, sad."

"Oh."

Magnus takes a careful sip, mindful of the  _hot_  part. "I noticed, too."

Alec appears suddenly very interested in the marshmallows decorating his drink. "Oh."

Magnus hums. He doesn't want to press, wants to give Alec the chance to explain for himself, but he's worried, and he doesn't want Alec to bottle it all up like he usually does.

"I'm just feeling a bit-" Alec sighs, tracing his thumb over the outside of the mug. "I know my parents are disappointed, that I'm doing what they expected, but - and it's only a letter, it's not like they forgot my birthday or anything, it's just-"

"You're allowed to be upset, Alec. Your feelings are valid." Magnus lifts his knee, poking gently at Alec's foot with his own. Alec glances up, his mouth a thin, tight line, as though he's fighting off a smile.

"I'm upset, but I'm not-" Alec shrugs, one shoulder lifting up half-heartedly. "I'm not surprised. I think that's the part that hurts the most, because I'm not surprised by their silence, by the fact that I wasn't good enough for a letter-"

"Don't make me hex you, too." Magnus warns, a tangled promise. "I didn't run up, and then back down what at least  _felt_  like thousands of stairs and almost burn my fingertips on these mugs just to sit by as you chatter on about bullshit."

"It's not-"

Magnus cuts in before Alec can continue his ridiculously false statement. "It is." He sighs. "Alright. Let me explain it in a way that you'll understand."

Magnus puts aside his hot chocolate, because this is the kind of situation that deserves his full, whole-hearted attention.

"It is a  _fact_ ," He states, firmly, his gaze centered solely on Alec, despite Alec's reluctance to keep contact. "That you're one of the most hardworking students in our year, if not the school, and you try your hardest at everything you do. Hell, the subject you're technically the 'worst' at, is the one you put the most energy into. If your parents can't recognise your brilliance, then they don't deserve to have any correspondence with you. They should be proud that they have such an incredible son, and it's a shame that they don't, but none of that its your problem."

Magnus pats Alec's knee. "You're one of the best people I know, Alexander. I haven't-" He pauses, swallowing past the lump in his throat, determined to finish. "I've learnt a lot about people, over the years. They're often complicated, sometimes good but unfortunately, not always nice. You, however, continually shake up everything I ever thought I knew."

Alec frowns, but a tiny smile is threatening to grow, and it warms Magnus, deep inside of his core. "I do?"

Magnus nods, refraining from rolling his eyes, although the urge is strong. "Yes, Dumbo, you do. You're unlike anyone that I have ever met before."

Alec frowns. "Dumbo?"

Magnus waves the question off, not unkindly. "It's another muggle thing. I might show you one day, it's quite a good movie. Although, I'm not sure how you'd react to some of it."

Magic is all well and good, but a flying elephant? That might be too much for Alec to understand without rattling off a hundred questions.

"You're not like anyone I've ever met before, either." Alec admits. "I gave up trying to figure you out ages ago. I mean, you always do all that you can to help others, and in the kindest ways."

Magnus shrugs, humbled beyond word by Alec's honesty. He's smiling at Magnus like everything he'd just said was a simple fact. "All I did was bring in hot chocolate, Alec, you did the same for me when I was upset."

"Still. It's a nice gesture." Alec prods at Magnus' knee with his spare hand, his grin cheeky and warm. It's nice to see him smiling so openly - much better than his previous sullen pout. "I'm trying to thank you."

"Nothing to thank. It's what I'm here for." Magnus picks up his mug, offering it. Alec clinks his mug against Magnus', carefully.

"What are we ... mock-toasting to?" Alec asks, with an almost teasing glint in his eyes.

"To us." Magnus declares. "To friendship"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this every chapter but THE NEXT CHAPTER is so good!! Lu absolutely kills it - you can see for yourselves in a fortnight ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time - Nin <3


	9. I Won't Let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Magnus chooses his OWL subjects, Julian asks Alec for a favour, and someone has an impromptu snog on the Quidditch pitch.

  
"Arithmancy," Magnus announces loudly, a folder of paper slapping down on the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, "Study of Ancient Runes." There's a slightly duller thud as the next stack is dropped atop the first.

Alec glances up from his cornflakes, frowning over at Magnus. "Pardon?"

"The deadline for OWL subjects is this weekend. I've decided. I'm doing Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes, even if the textbooks look really intimidating."

Alec arches an eyebrow at him in vague amusement. Across the table, Simon and Jace have paused in their conversation with Clary and Isabelle to stare at Magnus as though mildly concerned that he's lost his sanity.

"Good for you," Alec says, and, beside Jace, Ragnor snorts. The sound cuts off abruptly; Alec suspects that Catarina kicked him under the table. "But it's eight o'clock in the morning, Magnus."

"Have you handed your form in yet?" Magnus asks, choosing to ignore Alec's slight and sit down beside him in lieu of protesting.

"Muggle studies," Alec says, "and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Ditto," Jace says, jerking a thumb at Alec.

The corners of Magnus' lips twitch up, mischief and teasing making his eyes flash brightly in the sharp glare of summer morning sunshine. "Nobody here for Divination?"

Simon and Ragnor both pull identical expressions of sheer disgust.

"It's the biggest sham here since Dolores Umbridge," Ragnor says, rolling his eyes. "No thank you."

Magnus leans closer to Alec as conversation springs up around them, and whispers, "Who's Dolores Umbridge?"

Alec is about to reply, paging through facts in his mind to organise them in a way that will enable him to explain it to Magnus without having to go off on a hundred tangents in the process, when something - or, rather, someone - catches his eye.

Across the hall, standing by the Gryffindor table with his hands bawled into fists and his jaw clenched, is Julian. Fury is written into every line on his face, eyes narrowed as he watches Emma, who's gesturing with her hands, looking worried.

He can't hear what they're discussing from so far away, can't tell whether they're arguing with each other or whether they're both angry about something else, but he sees Julian's lips mould around the word _bullshit_ with tense, staccato emphasis. It makes Alec's eyes widen.

"Oh dear," Magnus says, beside him, following Alec's gaze across the hall. "That doesn't look good. I hope they're not having a lovers' quarrel."

Emma reaches out, palm pressing against Julian's shoulder, fingers moulding around the muscle, sympathy clear in the way she holds herself, exuding warmth and kindness and care. She runs her hand up and down Julian's arm, twice. He relaxes visibly at the touch.

"Thank god for that," Magnus says.

That makes Alec glance over at him, frowning. "Why do you say that?"

"They're Hogwarts' power couple!" Magnus says, looking at Alec as though he's sprouted another head. "Both Quidditch captains, both super badass, Julian is Head Boy, Emma is a prefect–" He spreads his hands wide, palms turned up. "Power couple."

"You're insane," Alec tells him, firmly.

"I'm lovable," Magnus says, and Alec rolls his eyes.

Seeming a little calmer, Julian drops his head to leave a brief kiss on Emma's cheek, before turning smartly on his heel, dark school robes swishing around him. He locks eyes with Alec, a determined look in his eyes.

Alec can't find it in himself to look away as Julian marches over to the Hufflepuff table. He pointedly ignores the Ravenclaws who shout some jibe to him about arguing with his girlfriend, focusing on his destination with singular determination.

"Alec," he says when he reaches where they're sitting, standing on the opposite side of the table, directly behind Simon, who jumps at the voice, whirling round with wide eyes. Julian doesn't glance down at him. "I need a favour."

"A favour?" Alec asks, frowning. "From me?"

Julian runs his tongue along the edges of his teeth, a flash of anger fizzing through his eyes. It's not aimed at Alec, but it fills Alec with apprehension nonetheless. He's never seen Julian angry before. Not like this.

"Some Gryffindor brute thought it would be a great idea to hex my best chaser in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Julian says darkly.

Alec sees Jace and Clary both look up in horror; Isabelle shakes her head, pressing her lips together firmly. She catches Alec's eye, but whatever it is she's trying to non-verbally communicate, Alec doesn't get it. He's distracted by why Julian is telling him this.

"Clearly, they thought it would be the best way to make sure we lose the match tomorrow," Julian says. "Because—"

"If we win, we go top. If we lose, Gryffindor stay top. I know."

A hint of a smile crosses Julian's face. "It's my last year," he says, quietly. "It's Emma's last year too, but she's won the cup with Gryffindor far too many times since she's been here. I joined the Quidditch team in my third year. We haven't won in all the time I've been on the team, and this year, we are so close. I know we can do this."

"Julian, what do you need?" Alec asks, heart racing.

"I need you to play, Alec."

Alec stills all over, heart thudding so hard against his ribs it's almost painful. Across the table, he sees Jace's lips part and shift as he says something, but Alec can't hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. His attention zeroes in on Julian, who's watching him with devastating intensity.

"You want me to play?" Alec whispers, staring up at Julian in shock.

"I'm desperate for you to play," Julian says. "You're ready. You can do this. And you can help us win. There's no-one else I'd rather have filling in."

"But—" Alec's eyes flit over to Magnus unintentionally, Julian's words about his inability to let things where his friend is concerned fly away when he's on a broom. "You said—"

"More than a month ago, yes. But you don't have to be a perfect player to fly on the team. You just have to be exceptional. And you are."

Alec flushes red, heat rising up his neck to the tips of his ears.

"So." Julian's voice gentles. "Can I count you in?"

"Yeah." Alec swallows, and offers Julian a shaky smile. "Yeah, definitely."

"Oh, thank Dumbledore," Julian says, exhaling. "I owe you."

"It's not a hardship," Alec points out, laughing a little. "I won't let you down."

Julian smiles at him, warm and wise and full of the kindly patience that makes him so popular among students young and seasoned alike. "I know you won't."

***

On the morning of the final Quidditch match of the year, the Great Hall is abuzz with the eager, excited sounds of the students of Hogwarts preparing to support their teams. The hall is awash with brash red and gold and the subtler quirks of yellow and black.

Magnus drops down onto a bench beside Jace, who looks faintly sick, and nudges him with his shoulder. "I think the general advice is to actually eat before you play sport, not go out on an empty stomach."

Jace shrugs one crimson-clad shoulder. "I don't want to eat."

"Come on." Magnus accepts a bowl of cereal from Clary, across the table, and shoves it under Jace's nose. "Eat. You've played in a match twice already this year. You'll be fine."

Before anyone has the chance to say another word on the topic of Jace's nervousness, there's a clamouring behind them, and Magnus hears someone shout his name rather urgently.

He turns on the bench to see Simon attempting to shove through a densely packed group of sixth year Gryffindors who appear to be admiring their friend's new broomstick. He's waving his hand frantically over his head, beckoning Magnus over.

"You'd better go," Catarina says, appearing out of nowhere with Ragnor beside her, looking stone-faced as he studies a Charms book with a furrowed brow. He's unreasonably concerned about his end of year exam after struggling with last week's lesson on the tickling charm. "It's about Alec."

Magnus' eyes snap to hers. "Is he okay?"

Catarina shrugs, sitting down carelessly and swinging her legs over. "I don't know. Lydia and Simon were talking to Isabelle about something a bit frantically, and Isabelle told Simon to find you. Conclusion, it must be about Alec. He's also not here, which only confirms my hypothesis."

"Stop using unnecessarily long words," Magnus tells her, rolling his eyes fondly. "Who says _hypothesis_?"

" _Prediction_ has just as many letters in it as hypothesis," she points out, "and less than _unnecessarily_."

Magnus sticks his tongue out at her while Ragnor snickers into his book; Magnus glances around to check that no teachers are paying them any attention before raising two fingers to Ragnor. His friend flashes him a sickly sweet smile in return.

"Simon," Magnus says when he reaches him, darting around the older students. "What's going on?"

"Alec's got cold feet," Simon says, "and Isabelle won't go and convince him to pull himself together."

"Only because he won't listen to me," Isabelle says, patting Simon's shoulder. "He will listen to Magnus. Go and work your best friend magic on my brother."

Magnus doesn't need to be told twice. He's dashing out of the hall and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Whatever Alec is feeling now, there's no way he'll ever forgive himself if he doesn't go out and play. Julian is counting on him. His house is counting on him. And he has to do this to prove to himself that he can do it.

As Magnus rounds the corner, he smashes into someone, causing pain to zap through his shoulder. He stumbles back, and apology ready on his lips, when he lifts his eyes to see Sebastian standing before him, eyes narrowed and shining with evil glee.

"Hello, Magnus," Sebastian says. "Maybe you should watch where you're going."

"Get out of my way, Morgenstern," Magnus snaps. "I don't have time for this today."

Sebastian's lips spread into a wolfish smile, and he takes a half step closer to Magnus so that they're practically chest to chest. A shudder runs down Magnus' spine, but he stands his ground. He's not afraid of Sebastian. He finds him despicable and utterly repulsive, but he's not afraid of him. Not anymore.

"I don't think you understand how it works, here," Sebastian says, smile unmoving but threat flashing in his eyes. "I come from a long line of powerful, rich purebloods. We're successful. We mean something. You–" he jabs a finger into Magnus' sternum "–you're nothing but a filthy little mudblood. And you need to learn your place."

Magnus arches one eyebrow, unimpressed. Lifting a hand, he picks up Sebastian's finger between his thumb and index finger, holding it as though it's capable of infecting him with a highly contagious disease, and pushes Sebastian's arm away from him.

"Don't," Magnus says, leaning into Sebastian's face, pupils constricting with anger, "touch me. Do I make myself clear?"

Sebastian's mouth curls into a smirk. "Oh, it's on, Bane. You think you can get away with talking to me like this? No. I'm coming for you. I'm going to ruin you."

"I don't really give a fuck what you think you're going to do. You talk a lot, Sebastian, but you never seem to follow through. Words only have as much power as you give them. And I'm not giving yours any. So, for the last time, get out of my way."

Magnus doesn't expect Sebastian to move away—but he does. He's not smiling anymore. He's glaring, hatred written across his face and fury clear in the clenching of his fists and the grinding of his teeth.

"This is not over."

"Yes, it is."

He doesn't give Sebastian the satisfaction of monopolising any more of his time. By the time he reaches the Hufflepuff common room, his thighs are burning from the exertion of running through the school, but he doesn't care.

Banging a fist on the door, he shouts, "Alec, I know you're in there, let me in!"

To his surprise, the door swings open immediately, revealing the face of a very amused third year boy with a wicked undercut, the longer strands of his hair dyed blue. Magnus is immediately envious of his hairstyle. He looks Magnus up and down and quirks an eyebrow.

"If Alec is the boy moping by the fireplace, he's in there," he says, but he doesn't move from the doorway. "Who are you?"

"Magnus," Magnus tells him impatiently. "Can you let me go in now?"

"No. I'm Imansu. I was the youngest player on the Hufflepuff team until Julian recruited Alec. If we lose the Quidditch cup because someone antagonises our new chaser, I'm going to be pissed."

Magnus throws his hands up in despairing irritation. First Sebastian, now this Imansu bloke—he just wants to see Alec, goddamnit. "I'm his best friend. I'm here to talk him out of his cold feet, not back into them."

"Oh." A slow smile spreads across Imansu's face. "That's alright then."

He passes Magnus, holding the door open for him, and strides down the hallway towards the Great Hall without another word.

Magnus shakes his head and hurries through into the common room before anybody else can ambush him and delay him. They've only got a little over an hour before the match is due to start, and Magnus knows that Julian told his team to be in the changing rooms twenty minutes before it begins.

Once inside, he barely takes note of the ever-comforting array of blacks and yellows, and instead searches for Alec. He sees him, as Imansu had said, sitting alone on a squishy yellow sofa by the fireplace, staring at the empty grate with a far-away look in his eyes.

"Alec," Magnus says, striding over. "Alec."

Alec glances up as Magnus comes to stand in front of him. He looks incredibly unsurprised to see him. "Hey."

"What are you doing up here?" Magnus asks, moving to sit beside him on the sofa. "The match starts in an hour, and you haven't eaten anything yet."

Alec shrugs, not quite meeting his eyes. "I can't play."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"But _why_? Julian thinks you can."

"I just can't, Magnus!" Alec turns to glare at him, jaw clenching. "I can't. I'm not good enough."

"Bullshit," Magnus says flatly, vaguely hoping that there aren't any sensitive first years lingering in the common room to overhear him swearing quite so viciously. "You're fantastic. I've seen you practise."

"No offence, Magnus, but you don't really know much about Quidditch. And you're biased. You're my best friend."

Magnus rolls his eyes. He pulls his legs up onto the sofa so he can sit cross-legged, facing Alec, and fixes him with a serious look. "Exactly. I'm your best friend. That means I tell you the truth, even if the truth hurts. If you were crap, a friend would tell you that you're great. A best friend would tell you that you're crap."

"Magnus—"

"Stop it," Magnus says, firmly. Part of him wants to be gentler, but he knows Alec won't respond to it. Not when he's like this, so caught up in his head and determined to believe that he's a failure. "You were so happy the other day when Julian told you he needed you to play. What's changed?"

"I just–" Alec picks at the knee of his Quidditch robes absently, and sighs heavily. "I started getting so determined to play on the team last year because I thought it would please my parents. Give them something to be proud of, you know? But I...I had a dream, last night, and I remembered some of the things they said that first holiday I came home after being sorted into the wrong house, and I just- I realised that it won't help."

Magnus reaches out and covers Alec's hand with his, squeezing it tightly. The contact makes Alec look up, their eyes meeting. It makes Magnus' heart ache. Alec looks anguished, torn, upset at the thought of being unable to win the approval of his parents.

Magnus would very much like to hex Maryse and Robert Lightwood into oblivion for making Alec look like that.

"If your parents are still so caught up on something so completely stupid after two years, during which you've been incredibly successful at Hogwarts, then that's their loss. Play this match just to spite them, if you have to. Prove them wrong. Prove that Hufflepuffs are just as good as Gryffindors."

Alec shakes his head, looking down forlornly. "I don't want to spite them. I just want them to be proud of me like they're proud of Jace and Isabelle."

Magnus feels like his heart fractures into a thousand pieces at the devastation, the resigned misery, in Alec's voice. He swallows, and squeezes Alec's hand tighter; he reaches out to grasp the other and pulls both into his lap.

"Then go out and play it for yourself," Magnus says, softly. "You love Quidditch. This will be your first match. Be proud of yourself. Let the people who care about you here be proud of you."

Alec scoffs. "Nobody is going to be proud of me if we lose."

"Yes, they are," Magnus says. "Julian will be proud of you. Your siblings will be proud of you. _I_ will be proud of you."

Alec glances up at him, a small, hesitant smile on his lips. "You really think so?"

"I know so." Magnus returns his smile tenfold, letting it spread across his face until the corners of his eyes crinkle. "You're going to play, and you're going to play amazingly. And whatever happens, at the end of that match Julian is going to tell you that you did brilliantly, and I'm going to shove everyone else out of the way and suffocate you with a hug."

Alec huffs out a laugh. "I guess I can't let Julian down, can I?"

"No," Magnus agrees, thinking, fleetingly, of the conversation Catarina and Lily and Lydia had had, months ago, about Alec's supposed kid-crush on Julian. He thinks maybe they were right. "You can't. So eat the food I stole for you and then let's go down and you can kick arse out there."

"Okay," Alec says, "but I want a good luck hug, first."

Magnus laughs as he obliges, reaching out to wrap Alec in his arms. And if he squeezes him a little tighter than he would normally, neither of them say anything about it.

***

Grasping the cool, smooth wood of his broom handle in one hand, Alec swallows, throat tight and stomach churning with nerves as the Hufflepuff team lines up beneath the stands, preparing to walk out onto the pitch and begin the last game of the season.

A hand clasps his shoulder, and he looks across to see Julian smiling warmly at him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm nervous," Alec says, fidgeting in place as they wait for Madame Hooch to wave them out.

"You've got this," Julian tells him, smile as unwavering as the confidence he appears to have in Alec, for reasons unknown. "I'm going to be next to you from now until the whistle blows, and then the Quaffle is going to be thrown into the air, and you're going to forget that anybody's watching."

"What if I can't?"

Julian squeezes his shoulder lightly. "Then just remember that Magnus and your sister are watching."

"I don't want to embarrass myself."

Julian arches an eyebrow at him. "Do you really think that Magnus and Isabelle are ever going to think that you embarrassed yourself on that pitch?"

"No," Alec concedes, a little reluctantly. He glances over to where he knows the Gryffindors are waiting, and wonders whether Jace is getting a similar pep talk from Emma. Probably not—Jace doesn't really do nervous. Or embarrassed. "But—Jace might. Or they might realise that Jace is better. Even if they don't say it to my face."

"They won't," Julian says, and his eyes twinkle with mischief. "And I don't think Magnus will be able to tell. He'll just be proud of you for playing."

That gets a little laugh out of Alec, and he feels his stomach untwist a little, just enough for him to breathe. "Yeah. Thanks, Julian."

"Anytime."

***

Alec doesn't think the Quidditch pitch has ever felt this big before.

He and Julian always spend their sessions out on the practise pitch, but tryouts are held here. It's not like he's never flown here before, with the towering stands decked out in their respective house colours and rows upon rows of benches lined up in the bleachers.

It's just never been filled to the brim with people before. Not when he's lining up on the ground with his team, dressed in his house colours. He's only ever been an eager observer.

Even for the last match of the year, Alec knows that this is an unusually exciting one. Not only will it determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup, but also, quite possibly, the House Cup—because however much Julian and the Hufflepuff prefects have been trying to encourage their house to knuckle down and rack up as many points as they can in the last few weeks of term, ultimately, if Gryffindor wins this match, Hufflepuff will lose that, too.

Alec swallows, curling his fingers tighter around his broomstick. Across the pitch, he catches sight of Jace flexing his fingers, nodding to something Emma is muttering to him with a tight expression, lips pressed together and eyes darting around the stadium, as though—

Oh. He's looking for Clary and Isabelle, up in the Gryffindor stands slightly behind Alec. He must catch sight of them, because Alec sees his expression ease visibly, and he shoots a smile up at the stands.

"Remember what we practised," Julian whispers, for the third time.

"I know. Don't let the other players trick you into distractions, don't take your eyes off of the Quaffle because the beaters are there to make sure you don't get smacked in the head with a Bludger, and—"

"Not that." Julian shoots him a smile that Alec catches out of the corner of his eye. "About being the first person on the Quaffle."

"Wait, what?" Alec turns his head fully, eyes wide. "Don't you want one of the other chasers to—"

"No," says a voice from beside him. He looks across at Jem Carstairs, the current Hufflepuff seeker—lithe, wickedly fast, and always ready with a kind word. "Because that's what Gryffindor will expect."

"Okay." Alec grips his broomstick tighter. "Do the others know?"

"Absolutely," Julian says, "and they all think it's a good strategy. Now—"

"Captains!" Madame Hooch barks, wand pressed to her cheek to amplify her voice so that it booms throughout the stadium, reverberating off the stands and causing a hush to fall. Abruptly, Alec can hear the breaths of his teammate—he can hear his own breaths. He has to swallow around his nerves to stop himself fleeing.

Julian squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, exchange a look with Jem, and then steps forward, crossing the grass to shake hands with Emma. Alec still doesn't understand now both of them seem to look like supermodels all the time. It's really very unfair.

"Shake hands," Madame Hooch shouts, and Alec sees Julian and Emma suppressing their grins as they shake hands and nod, competitive glints in both their eyes. "Players, take your positions!"

The loud, shrill pierce of the whistle being blow sets adrenaline racing through Alec's veins, and he's surging towards the Quaffle before anybody else can blink, acting on pure instinct. One arm darts out, and he's snatching the Quaffle out of the air just as it begins to fall, swerving sharply to avoid Emma as she bars her teeth in clear frustration at not having caught it first.

"Hufflepuff's newest addition is off to a flying start," Will Herondale says, feet up on the commentators box as he speaks into the microphone, "pun absolutely intended. And he's away, shooting past Emma Carstairs - I'm still disappointed that Julian got to her first, but water under the bridge. Lightwood passes, and that's a clean throw from Hufflepuff's youngest player in seventeen years, and– _Oof_."

The entire Hufflepuff section of the stadium groans as Gryffindor's keeper flicks the Quaffle away by the mere flick of a fingertip, glove barely touching the ball—but doing so just enough to make it veer off course.

"Gryffindor captain Carstairs isn't going to be happy with that save, mate, I'd cover your arse if—" The commentary cuts off abruptly as, Alec presumes, Professor McGonagall berates him for his language. According to his parents, it's a well-known Hogwarts tradition to have a bit of a prankster keeping things lively during a game.

But he's not really listening, instead shooting up into the air above the heads of the rest of the players to reach the Quaffle before they do. He sees Jace preparing to knock a Bludger in his direction down below, but he's only a moment from the ball—

He has a mere moment to decide. He rolls over, hitting the ball towards - he hopes, if his aim is good enough - one of his teammates, and loops out so he's upright just in time to see Hufflepuff put the first Quaffle through a hoop.

"And that's ten points for Hufflepuff!" Will shouts out above the eruption of cheers from the Hufflepuff stands. "Fantastic shot from Hufflepuff's most seasoned chaser, and not a bad set-up by Lightwood. One to watch up there. Julian Blackthorn knows what he's doing with his team selection."

Even a hundred metres in the air, Alec feels himself flush a little, before he refocuses on the game.

"Magnificent save by Hufflepuff's captain!" Will hollers, to more dejected moans from the Gryffindors. "And that's a flirty lovers' quarrel right there if I ever saw one, but we all know Quidditch will never beat these two captains. Gryffindor in possession again, and—"

Alec winces as Gryffindor slog a Bludger right at Julian's head, and he has to make a nose tail dive to avoid it—letting Gryffindor sweep the Quaffle neatly through the middle hoop.

"That's ten points to both teams," Will says, "and a strong defence on both sides. No sight yet of the golden snitch, and the younger Carstairs cousin is looking very relaxed up there. Strange family, you Carstairs, dotted in all sorts of houses. Hufflepuff are back in possession."

"Alec!" one of the older chasers shouts, pointing towards where their teammate is soaring between players. "Get below! They're going for a—"

But Alec has already caught on, and is moving before his teammate has time to finish her sentence. He drops slightly behind and several meters below where two Gryffindor players are in the middle of tackling his teammate, and—

" _Ouch_ ," Will says as she takes an elbow directly in the stomach, and he does, for once, sound sincere. "That's got to hurt. Gryffindor in– No, _Hufflepuff_ back in possession. What have you been feeding this kid, Blackthorn?"

Alec grips the Quaffle tightly, fitting his fingers into the ridges on the ball as he flies with a singular determination down the pitch. He can see the flying red and gold player hovering by the goalposts, and three swerving into tackle him from above, behind, and to his left, but they've made the mistake of leaving his dominant side uncovered.

He arches up, straightening on his broom so he can throw the ball straight and hard into the hoop furthest from him, and—

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff!" Will roars. "This match is getting dirty, but the Hufflepuff team are solidly in tune. Maybe they've been doing Quidditch teams' yoga as weekend bonding activities."

Alec begins to lose track of how much of the game has passed. Gryffindor score consecutively, much to Julian's ever-growing frustration—until the Hufflepuff beater successfully helps him divert the next onslaught, and Hufflepuff pull into the lead by thirty points.

He hears something odd buzzing by his ear, and he glances to his left to see a flash of gold by his ear.

"Jem!" he shouts, widening his eyes as though pretending to warn him of an oncoming Bludger to distract the hovering Gryffindor seeker—and then circles his thumb and index finger together in what Julian had called Hufflepuff's snitch sign.

He doesn't have time to wait to see if Jem got his message, swerving down to sweep up the Quaffle as it's dropped by the Gryffindors.

They're up eighty to fifty by the time Alec catches sight of Jem and the Gryffindor seeker pressed tightly together, snarling and shoving at each other. Their arms stretch out right as Alec slings the Quaffle through a hoop, and he diverts his gaze to miss seeing his throw score his team another ten points to see Jem's fingers wrap securely around the fluttering ball.

"What a conclusion!" Will hollers, jumping up at the commentary box and shooting a shower of yellow and black sparks into the air from his wand tip. "That's one hundred and fifty points to Hufflepuff for their top score this season of two hundred and forty, owing to a solid final score from Lightwood. Which means, as I'm sure you're all aware—"

"We won!" Julian shouts, appearing in Alec's view on his broom, delight diffused across his face as he reaches out and pulls Alec into a hug, ruffling his hair. He pulls back and grips his shoulders, laughing. "We won!"

"The Hufflepuff captain stating the obvious over there," Will says, and Alec only vaguely registers that, as a Gryffindor, it's fairly admirable that he's not being a tad more bitter. "And a hug for—"

"Will, shut it!" Jem shouts from behind Alec, grinning. Alec blinks in momentary surprise, not even aware that the two were friends, before he's being enveloped in the midst of a team hug, rowdy Hufflepuffs laughing and roaring out their victory.

And Alec smiles, feeling his heart soar in his chest.

They won.

***

"One day," Will Herondale says, no longer speaking into the microphone, instead turning his attention to the group of second year Slytherins sitting three rows above him in the midst of the Slytherin stand, "obviously long after I've left my unbeatable legacy, so utterly hilarious that nobody will even remember the name Lee Jordan, I want you to do the Quidditch commentating."

A finger points directly at Magnus' chest, and his lips part, face going slack in surprise. He knows the basics of Quidditch, and really not much else. "I'm sorry?"

"You." Will points at him again. "I don't know who you are, but I just spent an entire game trying not to be distracted by your commentary. It was _brilliant_." Will doesn't wait to let Magnus tell him his name - not that Magnus expects him to care - and instead vaults over the bench, and says, "Please excuse me, I need to go and let my best friend boast and rub Gryffindor's pathetic defeat in my face so he can get it all out of his system."

For a moment, Magnus is silent, Lydia and Lily, beside him, struck into similar muteness. He turns to look at them, eyes a little wide, and Lydia's lips quirk up.

"He's a character," she says, and Lily snorts.

"We knew that from the first time we came out to watch a match, Lyd," she says. "Although I didn't know he was friends with that Hufflepuff seeker. Seems unlikely."

Magnus shrugs. "Sometimes the best fitting people do."

 _Like Alec and I,_ he thinks, and then glances down to the pitch where Alec is currently in the midst of eager celebratory chatter among his Hufflepuff teammates. He smiles to himself at the sight. Because fuck, if he isn't proud of Alec.

***

Magnus makes good on his promise.

He clatters down the stairs, pushing past people and darting between older students and teachers as he slips down to the pitch, eyes on Alec, who's currently being squashed between the two Hufflepuff beaters, eyes shining and laughter bubbling up out of his throat.

"You're a good kid," Magnus hears one of them say, reaching out to ruffle Alec's hair, only to get swatted away with a scowl in their direction.

"Leave him alone," Julian says, rolling his eyes fondly from where he's standing just a little off to the side talking to Emma. "But you did really well, Alec. I'm proud of you."

Red rises up Alec's neck, staining his cheeks scarlet, and Magnus' lips quirk up in a smile. Some things never change, he supposes. He wonders, absently, whether Alec will still be self-conscious about compliments by the time he's standing in Julian's position—because there's absolutely no doubt in Magnus' mind that he's going to be captaining this team, one day.

"Alec!" Magnus calls, waving at him shamelessly, uncaring of the odd looks he gets from a few Hufflepuffs. "Alec!"

Alec turns towards Magnus' voice, and a grin spreads across his face when he spots him. "Magnus!"

Magnus wastes no time wrapping him up in a hug, both of them laughing as Alec grips onto his shoulders with one arm, the other keeping a tight hold on his broomstick. Magnus can feel it poking into his arm, but he doesn't care.

"You did it," Magnus states as they pull away, smirking a little. "Like I told you you would."

Alec rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and we all know you're always right."

"Well, I was this time, wasn't I?" Magnus asks, and shakes his head. "I bet Jace is bummed."

"Probably," Alec says, shrugging, and letting Magnus know that just for once in his life, he's more preoccupied by his own victory. "He can try again next year. I bet Iz isn't happy either."

"Lydia's consoling her," Magnus says. "I think she'll live. There was some talk of lemon tart that was distracting them when I ditched them to find you."

Alec's lips part, a reply clearly ready to slip out, when a shout of behind them snatches their attention.

What feels like everyone within fifty metres turns towards the source of the noise. Will Herondale has a bright grin on his face, apparently utterly uncaring of the fact that his house just got thrashed in the last Quidditch game of the season, and lost all chances of winning both the Quidditch and House Cup.

Instead, he has his eyes fixed on Jem with a bizarre sort of intensity. Magnus has seen them around school - everyone knows who Will is, with his startlingly loud personality, brash demeanour, and a sense of humour that has made him popular among more than just the fifth year he belongs to - but he doesn't think he's ever seen Will look at Jem like... _that_. As though everything else in the vicinity has faded, and Jem is all he can see.

They're friends. Magnus is fairly sure that most friends don't look at each other like that.

Jem, like everyone else, has turned to look at Will, eyebrows half-raised and amusement just beginning to make his lips tug up, before Magnus sees his expression drop when he takes in everything that's strange about the image.

Will doesn't stop when he reaches Jem. Instead, he reaches out to clasp Jem's face in his hands and kisses him. A collective gasp seems to sound from the onlookers, but Will and Jem either don't care, or don't hear it.

Jem seems to freeze, his entire body stiffening beneath Will's touch, eyebrows drawing together—before he drops his broomstick with a clatter that makes Julian physically flinch, and pulls Will closer by the front of his jersey.

Something _odd_ stirs in Magnus' stomach at the sight. It's not the first time he's ever felt it - he's had it, occasionally, for as long as he can remember - and it's certainly not the first time it's made him uncomfortable.

He's sure that every other thirteen year old boy in the castle has wondered about what it's like to kiss a girl—and he's heard plenty of rumours about who in his year has kissed who. But he's equally sure that most of them haven't wondered about what it's like to kiss a boy.

"Well," Magnus murmurs in Alec's ear, trying to push the thought away, "that's certainly one way to celebrate."

Alec's lips twitch, and he glances over at Magnus. "It's a bit dramatic."

"It is Will Herondale. He defines dramatic."

"Hm." Alec's eyes are bright. "Is that what you aspire to be? The epitome of dramatic?"

Magnus flicks a hand with over-exaggerated flamboyance, tossing his head to one side and huffing loudly. "Of _course_ that's what I aspire to be."

Alec dissolves into laughter at the display; Magnus can't help taking advantage of Alec's momentary distraction to look over at Will and Jem. They're both smiling, standing close, foreheads almost brushing as they whisper to each other. They look so happy, Magnus thinks, and wonders how nobody ever saw it before—that Will and Jem weren't just best friends, didn't just love each other, but were _in_ love with each other.

Most people have turned back to their conversations and celebrations. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team are all shooting grins in Jem's direction. The Gryffindor team are rolling their eyes at the pair—but it seems to be in good humour.

In fact, despite the sorts of reactions Magnus has seen from some of the kids at the orphanage at such displays of same-gender public displays of affection, nobody seems to care, really, that Will and Jem just snogged on the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

Except, of course, Sebastian and his posse—Magnus can see them sneering over by the stands. He's not even slightly surprised.

"You okay?" Alec asks, drawing him out of his thoughts with a nudge to his arm.

"Yeah." Magnus looks over at him and smiles, the sour taste in his mouth and the odd, twisting discomfort in his stomach disappearing at the joy still radiating from every cell of Alec's being. "Are you going back to the common room to celebrate?"

Alec nods. "Coming?"

"Am I allowed to?"

"Hey, Julian!" Alec calls over his shoulder, drawing the attention of the captain. Julian raises an eyebrow. "Can Magnus come back to the common room with us?"

Julian huffs, rolling his eyes, but there's a smile blooming on his eyes, a brotherly sort of fondness undeniable in his eyes as he looks over at Magnus. "Honestly, you're as bad as Jem, always wanting to bring that obnoxious prat back for a celebration."

"Hey!" Will pokes his head around Jem and frowns at Julian. "I'm a lovable obnoxious prat, and I've been an honorary member of your team for the last two years, so shut up."

Julian shakes his head, grinning. "How's your flying these days, Will?"

"Reasonable, when Jem's the one flying and I'm clinging on for dear life and fantasising about his shoulders," Will says, and Magnus has to bite down on his lip to stop himself laughing. He exchanges a look with Alec, and sees his own thoughts written on Alec's face—that's going to be them, in a few years.

Minus the impromptu snogging and the flirting, of course.

"I'm your mascot," Will says, smiling sweetly. "Your lucky charm. That's why you always lose when I'm having an argument with Jem about why strawberry jam is better than raspberry jam."

Jem groans. "Will, for the last time—"

"Those tiny little seeds get stuck in your teeth, it's horrible!"

"William, I swear—"

"James—"

Julian shakes his head, and calls out, "Alright, you lot, let's get showered, and then head back to the common room. Butterbeers on me!"

"Naw, Jules," Emma says, appearing from behind him as she leads the Gryffindor team off the pitch. "You might at _least_ sneak them in some firewhiskey."

And Magnus smiles, leaning close to press his arm against Alec's. He might not understand all the intricacies of Quidditch, but he does understand what it means to Alec. And this? This he understands perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had WAY too much fun writinf Will in this chapter. Like, honestly, I wrote everything from where Will appears in, like, a couple of hours, because I was so into it.
> 
> This is my last chapter for the second year, so I really really hope you've all enjoyed it, and I hope you're all ready to the trials and tribulations of the next year! 
> 
> Following, of course, a wonderful final chapter from the ever-lovely Malteser24.
> 
> Much love,  
> Lu <3


	10. With You Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's summer break!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys - a quick apology; I ran into some stifling writer's block before Christmas, and only recently found my groove back, fortunately. both Lu and I try our very hardest to write in advance and prepare to make sure that we don't have to mess with this schedule, but unfortunately this time around that didn't work. 
> 
> However, I sincerely hope that you all enjoy this chapter, and that it's worth the wait. 
> 
> without further ado - chapter ten:

The bustling cacophany that erupts between the sliding doors of the Hogwarts train has almost become a comfort, Magnus thinks, as he trudges down towards the end of the carriage, tugging enthusiastically on Alec's hand.

Alec doesn't seem as giddy about the summer break, and to be fair Magnus isn't excited about going away from the place that has begun to feel like home - but this time is different, because they have plans, set in stone plans for two whole weeks at Lily's, and they still have the entire train ride to enjoy their time together.

Magnus is all for taking joy in the moment, instead of looking to an unfortunate future.

Jace, Clary, Simon and Isabelle have already crowded themselves into a carriage a few doors back, leaving Catarina and Ragnor to choose between theirs, and whichever one Magnus manages to snag, for a carriage of two is never a viable option.

Magnus slips into a small, empty carriage, one likely to only fit four to six people, Alec following close behind him. Magnus tries not to act too smug when Ragnor huffs down in the corner near the door.

"Easy getaway," Ragnor comments, drily, when Magnus fixes him with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow.

Alec laughs softly, resting his backpack onto the seat next to him - Professor Garroway had given him an extracurricular textbook on the history of the more rare and dangerous potions with the intention, Magnus suspects, of giving Alec something about Potions to be interested in.

He also has a copy of some of Julian's plays and ideas for how Alec can keep Hufflepuff's winning streak in the new school year - Magnus isn't sure how Alec is going to go next year, without Julian as his captain, especially since they haven't heard who the new captain will be, yet. He trusts that Alec will be the best chaser Hufflepuff could dream of, he's just wary of how Alec will adjust without his mentor there.

Nevertheless, that's something to worry about later. Now, Alec is smiling and carefree, and even if that only lasts the trainride, Magnus is going to make the most of it, because Alec deserves to feel happy.

Catarina slips in to next to Ragnor, robes bundled in her arms; some first year had stepped on them the last day, tearing the ends, so her plan for the trip is to repair the damage as much as possible.

"Has the bickering started already?" She asks, the question directed solely towards Alec.

"Yeah," Alec shrugs. "I'm surprised nothing has been thrown through the window."

Catarina's melodic laugh is echoed by Magnus' affronted gasp. Ragnor doesn't appear as insulted by the statement, simply hides a secretive smile behind the pages of  _The Decline of Pagan Magic._

"I'll throw you through the window." Magnus fires back. Alec raises a dubious eyebrow, arms folded over his chest defiantly.

The window is a little too small to fit Alec, who's been slowly creeping up in height recently, and besides Magnus wouldn't really want to hurt him like that. Instead, he pokes out his tongue, rather maturely, and moves Alec's backpack to the floor, refraining from dropping it with the knowledge of what it contains and how much it all means to Alec.

Then, to really get his disgruntled point across, Magnus throws his feet onto Alec's lap. Surprisingly, Alec doesn't shove them off, instead shifting on the seat to accomodate Magnus.

Huh.

There's a hesitant knock on the door, a dark-haired first year poking his head through. "Is there enough room in here for another?"

Raphael barely blinks at the scene before him, just assesses the space and the likelihood of being able to fit in. Catarina smiles, gently, patting the seat beside her, near the window and across from Alec. "There's a spot here, if you'd like. Best not to sit near Magnus, he's in one of his exaggerated moods."

"Isn't he always?" Raphael replies with a tiny smirk, closing the sliding door behind him. "Hello, Cat. Ragnor. Alec."

Ragnor mumbles a quiet response, engrossed in his book, while Alec inclines his head in greeting, something kind curling his smile. "Hi, Raphael."

"Don't I get anything?" Magnus asks, poking at Alec's leg with his foot in defiance, glaring petulantly at Raphael. "What happened to respect, or Slytherin pride for that matter?"

"We're not in Hogwarts anymore," Raphael points out, gesturing to the window, through which the Whomping Willow can be spotted in the distance. "Besides, I still haven't forgiven you for cheating at Exploding Snap."

"I didn't cheat!" Magnus protests. "It's not my fault I won so often, I'm still new to the game compared to you magic folk."

Alec laughs warmly beside him, hand patting Magnus' knee. "You know, you've been at Hogwarts for two years now, I think it's safe to say you are one of us,  _magical folk_  as you put it."

"The absolute horror," Magnus feigns a shiver, dodging the hand that Catarina swings at his head. "I don't think I'll be a wizard, when I grow up."

"You're already a wizard," Ragnor points out, not looking up from his book.

Magnus groans, tipping his head back. "It just sounds so tedious, and boring. I want a title that's, you know, snappy and exciting and different. Unique."

"I don't know," Alec shrugs, thumb pressed against Magnus' knee. "I like having something, uniform. There have been thousands of briliant wizards before us, and there will be again, I'm just - one of those."

"Witches, too." Catarina adds. "Although I'm a little curious about this new-wave movement, where wizard isn't a gender-specific term."

"I don't know why it should be specific to gender," Magnus rolls his eyes, the backwards traditions of the wizarding world still not something he entirely understands. "You should be able to call yourself whatever you'd like."

Catarina hums. "If only things were that easy. Unfortunately, our world isn't that open yet. One day, though - we can hope for one day."

Magnus isn't a very patient person, not one to wait for things that he wants to just, fall into his lap. Nothing that he has gotten out of life has, realistically, been handed to him, he's had to work for it all.

If he has to work for a better world, too, then he will.

 

* * *

 

 

The ruckus and noise seems to spread itself out on the platform; they'd exited the carriage with the flow of students spilling between the doors, the air surprisingly warm around the edges - not enough for Magnus' liking, but better than negative cold.

Magnus has his arm wrapped around Alec's, to keep from losing him in the crowd. He wants to soak as much time together as he can, before they're forced to part ways for a length of time too long on existence alone. Fortunately for them, they have the excuse of looking for Isabelle and Jace, who they aren't allowed to meet Alec's parents without.

"Is that Will and Jem?" Magnus asks, catching wind of boisterous laughter a few spaces away. "The two that pashed after Hufflepuff won the House Cup?"

Alec follows his gaze, ducking his head to glance around other milling kids. "I think so? I don't know much about Will, but Jem is really nice. Quiet, too, but the kind where it's like he doesn't speak unless he has something important to say?"

"I know some people who could take a leaf out of his book," Magnus mutters. "More who'd be best to simply not talk at all."

Alec bumps his shoulder, laughter bubbling behind his ribs. "Magnus," He chastises, his tone weaker than he'd like.

"You can't tell me that I'm wrong, Alexander." Magnus points out, dodging a stray trunk that almost bowls him over. "The world would be a better place if Sebastian never opened his mouth."

Alec hums, glancing around the platform. "You're not ... wrong,"

He trails off, hands slack in the pockets of his jeans. Magnus follows the direction of his gaze, landing on Jem and Will, standing close and cozy together; Will has his hands caught in Jem's sweater, smiling as Jem brushes his hand against Will's cheek. It's a private moment, despite the floods of students and parents around them, and Magnus feels as though he shouldn't be watching, but part of him can't look away.

They look ... in love. The way characters on screen in cheesy rom-coms do, the way fairytales speak of - it's beautiful, to witness, but part of Magnus aches, in an odd and unfamiliar way, because although he's young and not really interested in crushes, let alone anything else, he wonders if he'll ever be able to find something like that, one day.

He may be like Will, a comparison he can sort of understand, but that doesn't mean that he'll be lucky enough to have what Will does. Someone who looks at him as though he's the only important thing worth attention - for an orphaned kid like him, the force of a love that strong is something he's only dreamed of.

There's friends, of course, he loves his friends more than anything and he's not sure what he'd do without them, previous distance away from Alec enough to prove that, but what Jem and Will clearly share is - different.

He doesn't remember his parents that well, but what he does didn't speak towards a happy relationship - before Hogwarts, the only relationship he saw that didn't crash and burn were on screen and trapped between thin, cover-bound pages.

He can't help but, think, worry, that having amazing friends is all he'll ever be allowed.

"Magnus?"

Magnus shakes his head, pulling himself back to reality. Alec has his hand on Magnus' shoulder, eyes soft with concern. "Hey," Alec grins, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Magnus thinks of the way Julian looks at Emma, the shy brightness that lights up Alec's face when Julian is around - there's different types of love, he knows, but now he's wondering if there are different kinds of crushes too.

The kind that Will and Jem had on each other, before their big public moment, compared to that whiclh Alec has for Julian, to the way the sixth year with the shocking purple hair had looked at her friend, with a pining that even Magnus could see didn't seem requited.

"Yeah," Magnus smiles, faintly. "Just, thinking."

Alec bumps his shoulder. "Dangerous."

Magnus laughs, peeling his attention back to Alec. "The cheek of you," He tuts. "I was just thinking about how complex people can be. There's always something hidden from view, you only tend to see the parts that people are willing to show, but that isn't - all of them. It's just, something."

Alec blinks, slowly. "That's surprisingly deep for the guy who was throwing Bertie Bott's beans at Ragnor's head only half an hour ago."

"I have layers, Alexander." Magnus bites back a comment about onions and ogres, knowing that Alec will have no idea what he's talking about anyway. "I don't have to be silly and fun all the time."

"I know." Alec glances around, shoulders growing rigid. "Hey, I see Isabelle-"

Magnus steps off to the side, slowly but enough to create substantial distance between them. Alec whips around barely a milisecond later, eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his mouth creased in distaste.

"Magnus?" Alec frowns. "What are you doing?"

Magnus takes a deep breath, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "You need to catch up with your siblings, else your parents will get annoyed."

"Yeah," Alec shakes his head, inching closer. "That doesn't explain what  _you're_ doing?"

Magnus takes another step, ignoring the cavern that stretches inside his chest. "I don't want to complicate things for you, Alec. It was made very clear, the last time, that your parents don't like me, don't like people-" He swallows past the lump in his throat. "People like me."

"I don't give a damn about what my parents think." Alec grits his teeth, a rare glimpse at his angry side. "You've been there for me, when they weren't. You've cared for me more in the year and a half we've been friends than they have since the disappointment that was my not being sorted into Gryffindor. You shouldn't have to put yourself back for them."

It hurts, a gnawing ache in his gut, stretching and tearing. "Alec. I appreciate that you'd do this for me, really I do, but I can't let you do this. We'll see each other in a couple of weeks, okay, it's best we say goodbye here before things become unecessarily awkward."

Alec sighs, glancing back at his parents. Isabelle has reached their side, Jace dragging his feet behind himself; the Lightwood matriach's gaze boring into the back of Alec's head. Robert couldn't, to be frank, care any less.

"I don't want to fight with you," Alec sighs. "Even though you're being an idiot."

He sweeps forward, tugging Magnus into a tight hug, head tucked against his neck. "You may be an utter fool," He mumbles, breath warm against Magnus' ear. "But I'm still going to miss you."

Magnus wraps his arm around Alec's back, hugging him tight as though by doing so, he'll be able to pretend that he'll never have to let go.

"I'll miss you too."

 

* * *

 

 

Time away from Hogwarts and his friends passes, to Alec, like molasses - like he's stuck in existential quicksand. His parents aren't as bad as previous years, but that's mostly because they aren't there six out of seven days a week.

Sunday dinners are a firm and unyielding staple, the clink of metal against porcelain and his father's dry coughs the most to break the awkward silence. There's questions, ocassionally, but the words are forced out through tightly-pressed lips, the answers routine and cardboard.

During the day, Isabelle, Jace and Max make their own fun, holding paper quidditch competitions, playing hide-and-seek across three storeys and performing mock-duels on the back lawn.

Sometimes, Alec joins in. Others, he writes letters to all of his friends, though most to Magnus, and he reads.

He reads the textbooks that Professor Garroway gave him, about the history of the Wizarding World's most infamous potions; Polyjuice, Amortentia and it's dangers, the side-effects of too much Felix Felicis, Nicolas Flamel's quest for the Elixir of Life, and why a potion for Dreamless Sleep is such a bright purple.

It doesn't help him understand the logistics of potion-making, something he doubts he ever will, but it does help spark his interest, reminds him why potions are so important, how much time and effort people have dedicated towards creating things to better help others, and the balancing dark side.

He practices Quidditch, too. Goes over the tips that Julian had taught him like mantras until they sink into his limbs, until the moves he was taught come to him as easy as breathing, until the mock plays that Julian had given, examples of past games and ideas, are knocking around his mind.

He picks up Max, when it's certain their parents won't be home for hours, and pops him on the broomstick, takes him around for a low-flying spin around the yard, until Max's giggles tire out and the summer sky has left red marks across Alec's shoulders and nose.

A few weeks in, boredom takes Isabelle by the hand, leading to an unfortunate incident with a smoking kitchen and sparking wand, a tray of burn biscuits resting in the sink.

After that, Alec convinces Hodge to buy edible cookie dough, and he, Jace and Isabelle sit in a circle, eating cookie dough for dinner as they regal Max with exaggerated tales of their days at Hogwarts.

It only makes Alec miss it more, miss his friends like a hole has been carved out, spilling over with an aching sense of loss and distance that not even his siblings can repair.

It's weird, because his siblings were always who he missed the most, and he misses Max when they're at Hogwarts, but away from school he's without his friends, too, a group of people however slight that have grown to mean … nearly everything.

The summer break is appreciated, but Alec can't help but wish the free time away.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, you'll be off with your friends tomorrow." Maryse clears her throat, gaze heavy on Alec.

It's the Sunday before, the night that Alec has been looking forward to the entire summer break, anticipation building a summit beneath his feet. He refuses to let his mother push him off, refuses to let anything stop his excitement from making him smile.

He's all packed. Has been for three days, because he kept changing what he wanted to bring, swapping out shirts and jeans, mulling over what constitutes as "old clothes", considering his mother doesn't believe in anything less than the utmost best.

Alec prefers his oversized sweaters with holes worn in the sleeves from where he'd continuously thumbed through the threads, the hoodies that hide him from view, his own personal fort - than half of the clothes she insists he wears.

Fortunately, and somewhat strangely, Maryse has given him control of his own trunk - she left him entirely to his own devices, without even a hover or peer over his shoulder.

It's not like her, but then, maybe she's just testing Alec, to see if he really is capable of packing himself.

Alec clears his throat and nods, in answer to her question.

"Yep. We're going to my friend, Lily's house, she lives .. a little out of London."

Maryse sweeps her gaze towards Isabelle, and Jace, the corner of her mouth tight and twisted. "And you're going with that mundane girl - Carrie?"

"Clary." Isabelle corrects, tone clipped. "Her mundane friend Simon will be there too. Although we're only going for a week, not two as Alec is."

Alec's cheeks brighten, a blush rising beneath his receding sunburn. Maryse glances at her husband, a slippery sigh escaping before her attention is back on Alec.

"I hope you have everything packed," Maryse folds her hands in front of her. "We wouldn't want you to have to come back and miss time away from your friends."

It would, under other circumstances, sound sarcastic and bitter - but there's something about the twist of Maryse's lips that hints towards her .. trying, if nothing else. It's certainly more than Robert, with his head stuck in the pages of the Daily Prophet, has offered all evening.

"Lily said that they have extra things, just in case, but I think I have everything I need. You can have a look over it, if you need to." Alec thinks his tone could be a bit lighter, but his patience his thin and his trust wary, and there's something unnerving about the ... kind, smile his mother offers back.

"I trust that you have all you need, I was just asking." Maryse's gaze swings towards Jace, who's silently and hurriedly stuffing his face with peas.

"I never offered you my condolences, Jace." Maryse inclines her head slightly. "I heard you played a wonderful game, in Gryffindor's fight for the Cup. It's a shame you lost, but good practice for the future."

Jace nods, lips clamped shut. Alec is about to roll his eyes, although the only thing he should be surprised about is the fact it's taken Maryse this long to bring it up - when Maryse turns to him, something akin to pride flickering in her dark eyes, and his gaze locks in place.

"Congratulations are, however, in order for you, Alexander. Your first game as a Hufflepuff chaser and you help lead your team to victory. I can't say that I was really expecting it, Hufflepuff are historically not one of the stronger teams - but that can't be said for this year."

"Thank, you." Alec forces the words out, removing his tongue from where it had froze in contact with the roof of his mouth. "It wasn't just me, Julian Blackthorn, the captain, played the biggest part, as did the other team members."

Maryse nods slowly, as though everything makes sense - meanwhile, Alec is internally floundering. "Of course, Julian. I went to school with his father, I believe - although that was a while ago now."

Maryse glances at Robert, who's only contribution to the conversation is a dry flick of the paper between his hands, eyes scanning across articles apparently more interesting than the going's on of his own children.

Maryse inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a longer second than normal. "I'll be around to see you off tomorrow, I've cleared my schedule up until noon for that purpose. Unfortunately, your father doesn't seem to consider it on the same level of importance as I do."

"We can't all just take impromptu time off, Maryse." Robert mutters beneath his breath, without even looking up. "Some of us have jobs that require deeper attention."

Maryse presses her lips together, a thin line preventing her from speaking what she's likely hiding from comment. Isabelle's foot bumps Alec's beneath the table, her smile fond and trying. His sister has always understood the limits of his patience, better than most, but he's not surprised by their father's behaviour.

It's their mother's kind, albeit a little awkward attempt at trying to mend fences that had been snapped in half, that's really unsettling him. Or, rather, just not - sitting right, with how she has been treating him since the Sorting Hat drama.

It's as though she's ... suddenly, decided to actually try, and it's not that Alec doesn't appreciate it, but rather, that he doesn't trust it will last. He's not going to kick a gift horse in the mouth, but he also refuses to blindly trust this sudden change.

Besides, he's going away tomorrow. He won't have to worry about it for at the least, the next two weeks, and at best the next few months.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus has decided that it's a cruel rule of the universe, that the night one needs sleep the most, is the night that sleep evades with a taunting, crooked smile.

Or so he conjures in his mind, as he stares out the window of his room at the orphanage, watching the stars dance and sparkle above his head.

In his mind, blue wisps curve into a Cheshire's smile, pointed sparks from the tip of his wand - of course it's all in his head, literally, because the use of magic is banned outside of Hogwarts.

It's not a dumb rule. Just an annoying one.

He probably wouldn't care if he was asleep, as he should be, but he can't keep his eyes closed longer than five minutes, sleep evading him as excitement tickles his skin.

He gets to see his friends tomorrow. He gets to see  _Alec_ tomorrow. Letters, as sweet as they are, don't do justice to seeing his best friend, in the flesh, getting to laugh and quip and just hug him.

The orphanage is leaps and bounds ahead of how it used to be, thanks to April and her inclusive activities and firm stance against bullying - but it's not the same as Hogwarts. He doesn't have friends here, he just has the sad, underlying sense of 'we're all the same' - the same, because of their status, not anything else. Because they've been lumped in the same boat together, with no legal way out for another few years, at least - that not considering the mess that comes afterwards.

He doesn't hate the orphanage. It's simply just.. not home.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus gets a few hours sleep, fitfully, between thin sheets and bouts of intrusive thoughts that keep him distracted with hope for all that is to barely out of reach. He wakes to a knock on his door, a sharp rap that brings him practically flying up out of bed, nearly stumbling over his trunk in his haste.

He straightens his shirt out, old and faded blue, before pulling open the door. April stands a respectable distance away, hands clasped in front of her, a kind if hesitant smile directed Magnus' way.

"Your friends are downstairs, along with a Mrs Lightwood-" Something dark flashes across April's eyes, only to disappear a second later. Strange. "They're very excited about this trip you're all taking."

"Uh, thanks for letting me know." Magnus scrubs the back of his neck, still waking up. "I'll just, get changed and head downstairs."

"I won't bother you-" April pauses, glancing down the hallway before returning her gaze to Magnus. "You have the contact details for here, if something goes wrong you can always phone, or email - or even send a letter, if the old-school dynamic is easier."

Magnus nods, refraining from mentioning that he doubts Lily's family will have even heard of phones, let alone have one themselves. "I'm sure I'll be fine, but - thank you, April."

He expects her to say something back, well wishes or a list of helpful tips with kind intentions because that is simply the type of person that she is - but nothing comes.

April smiles, offers a tiny wave and then she's just, gone. Down the stairs and towards whatever her next task is.

Leaving Magnus, in his PJ's, staring out a hallway that feels empty and cold.

 

* * *

 

 

It's Alec, he sees first, because of course it is. Alec, with his scruffy, unbrushed hair (the tangled strands refusing to stay down anyway) and his 100-kilowatt smile and that breathless, i've-missed-my-best-friend way of saying "Magnus."

Magnus almost stumbles down the stairs, trunk clattering behind him, feet zipping across the space between them.

He doesn't swing Alec around, subconsciously aware of Mrs Lightwood, and the less than stellar opinions she holds about him; instead, he wraps his arms around Alec, as tight as he can, head tucked against Alec's neck because they're  _the same height._

What the-

"You grew!" Magnus shouts, pulling back sharply, hands gripping Alec's shoulders. "We're the same height now. I almost can't believe it."

Alec laughs, the sound reverberating and familiar. "Well, you're going to have to. I know it's only a few inches, I'll still be shorter than the majority of the higher levels of Hogwarts but, it's something."

"A very tall something," Magnus responds, lifting a hand to brush Alec's hair back. "Your hair, too, it's gotten longer."

Alec's cheeks brighten. "Yeah, I'm, uh, trying something new. Does it look okay?"

Magnus nods, letting his hands drop to his sides, one straying towards the handle of his trunk. "Yeah. It looks really good. You look ... older, in a way. Like you're fourteen."

"I'm turning fourteen next," Alec points out, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

Magnus knocks his shoulder, playfully. "Exactly my point."

It's nice, it's  _familiar_  and Magnus can feel himself physically relaxing, shoulders dropping as the tension bleeds out, because Alec is here, and Alec has become synonymous with fun and safety and friendship - and then Mrs Lightwood clears her throat and the moment breaks.

"I hope your summer has been good, Magnus. I know that Alec's been looking forward to this trip the entire break." Mrs Lightwood offers a smile, tight and strained at the corners, but it's more than she'd given him in the past.

Magnus clears his throat, hand curling around the handle of his trunk. "It's been okay, ma'am. I have been looking forward to this trip, too."

He's waiting for the punchline, the bit where she glares at him, as though he's a piece of gum beneath her suede pump, or a cockroach that's scuttling around doing nothing worth anything in his life - but it doesn't come. Her smile isn't entirely genuine, but mostly because it feels more forced than anything else ... she's trying, and even if it doesn't last longer than a minute, Magnus will take it.

He has no respect for her, after how she and her husband have treated Alec, but he's been taught from a young age to be polite, and he's not going to disrespect  _Alec_  by being an arse to his mother.

He's very well-accustomed to keeping his thoughts to himself, and it's hardly a trouble to do it for Alec.

"If you're both ready," Mrs Lightwood intercepts quietly. "The car is waiting around the corner - Hodge will drive you to your friend's house, I have some business nearby to attend to, so I'll have to bid you farewell here."

Alec hunches, just slightly, only so much that someone who's paying attention, or considerably tuned into his movements, would notice. Magnus does, because Magnus always notices when something is not  _quite_  right with Alec, especially because Alec is hardly one to mention if something is wrong for fear of bothering others.

"Thanks, mum."

There's no heart-warming hugs, no kisses on foreheads or verbal "love you's" exchanged; Mrs Lightwood squeezes her son's shoulder, offers a tight nod to Magnus, and then she's stalking off down the street, her heels clipping along the cement.

Mrs Lightwood may have been considerably ... nicer, this time around, but she's still intimidating, and not exactly the world's best mother by any standards. Not that Magnus has the best experience with parents, or guardians, but still, the facts remain such.

"Hodge is just at the end of the block," Alec explains, watching his mother walk off, only to disappear around the corner. "It's a surprise she even came with me."

Magnus bites back comments that would come out far ruder than he means, because he doesn't want to taint the day - it's the first of many, many days that he gets to spend with Alec, and he doesn't want to ruin that.

Happy thoughts only.

"I missed your dorky face," He blurts out, because it's the first thing he thinks of. Alec chokes out a laugh, spinning to face Magnus with a grin both puzzled and fond. "I did. And the rest of you, of course. Attached limbs and all."

Alec rolls his eyes, taking a slow step forward, which Magnus matches without thought. "You're insane. Prolonged exposure to magic-free air has driven you mad." He casts his glance side-way, a somewhat reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I missed you too."

Magnus links his arm with Alec's, tugging his rattling trunk along behind him. "Of course you missed me. Who wouldn't miss me? I'm clearly the best part of your life."

Alec doesn't refute him, simply hums and dodges a young lady with a pram, phone glued to her ear. "Don't let Isabelle hear that. She'll never let me live it down. Of course, we are related, so I'm sure there are rules around that and her having to be my favourite person, automatically..."

Magnus hops over a crack in the cement. "Isabelle thinks I'm great too. Probably because she's incredibly smart."

"That she is," Alec agrees. They've mentioned it, before, how clear it is to them that Isabelle will sweep Hogwarts like a hurricane, her young age nothing when it comes to her intelligence.

"You're smart too, you know?" Magnus slows down, hand never leaving Alec's elbow. "In different ways. You're going to shake up the Quidditch field in ways nobody else has."

Alec sighs. "We'll see. I've only played one proper game."

"A game," Magnus points out, with a considerably cheeky smile. "Which you won. If that's not a positive sign for the future, I don't know what is."

Alec's quiet, for a moment, the only sound the click-clack of the wheels of Magnus' trunk. It doesn't worry Magnus, silence is something that he's more than familiar with, and besides, sometimes Alec needs the chance to work through his own thoughts before speaking them aloud.

"You've always supported me. In Potions, of course, but with Quidditch - even though you don't even care about it, you've always been there for me, you've always listened to me rant, or come out with me to practice even though you were probably bored out of your mind-"

Magnus squeezes Alec's elbow, silently encouraging him to slow to a snail's pace. Alec looks at him, eyes wide and a little confused, and a part of Magnus' heart chips away, because Alec really isn't used to having a genuine support system wider than his siblings.

It's so much deeper than Magnus previously thought.

"You're my friend. My best friend. I'd be an awful person and sorry excuse for a friend if I didn't support you," Magnus shakes his head, thoughts rattling against his skull. "It doesn't matter that it doesn't interest me, just that it's important to you."

Alec's hug is unexpected and quick, so sudden that Magnus almost trips backwards. He wraps a hand around Alec's back, the most he can manage with the way Alec is squeezing him.

"I can't believe that I could have missed out on having you as a friend." Alec mumbles against Magnus' shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Fortunately, Alexander, you won't ever have to worry about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it! For now...
> 
> We're still in the planning stages for third year, but we'll be sure to let you know when a schedule is in the works: in the meantime, if you're interested, the links to both our twitter and tumblr accounts is below.
> 
> I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank you all for a wonderful second part: as of the fourth of January this year, this story has been going for a year, and it is one of the best things I've had the pleasure of working on. The collective response has been lovely, the enthusiasm encouraging, and working with such a dear friend has been the result of fun I could only dream of. 
> 
> Cheers, to another year of magic, friendship, and fun - and of course, Quidditch ;)
> 
> \--
> 
> links, for those who are interested:
> 
> Lu - [tumblr](http://notcrypticbutcoy.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/lucysrebelheart)
> 
> Nin - [tumblr](http://ninwrites.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](http://twitter.com/ninwrites)


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